Order Vynyan
by Jaye Blue
Summary: A duo of femmes thought long lost replies to Optimus' call. When they land, they carry a message that will knock the Autobots world into next week. It is learned they were once cadets, stolen away from an Autobot academy. Where have they been? Where did they go? Why did they show up now? They do not have all the answers, but one Autobot does.
1. Prologue

**Welcome to Order Vynyan! This story does have characters and settings from the movies and Transformers Prime, possibly a few from G1-because mashing timelines together is way too much fun. I love to hear from my readers, so please leave a message and tell me your thoughts or PM if you notice any mistakes! **

**Enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to their respective owners. I own only my characters, my settings and my plot. **

_PROLOGUE_

Splitwing was hurt. Her vocalizer processor was heavily damaged, ruined to the point that she was unable to make any sound. Her chassis had been nearly ripped apart, deep gouges marred her smooth, dark, grey chest plates. Wires in her right thigh were shorting out, which was quite painful in and of itself, except that each time the wires crossed or touched, her leg would jerk violently around like a fish out of water. For her, the movement was far out of the range of motion her leg usually occupied.

On top of all the injuries, her opponent had ripped out her communications antennae and severed the necessary components to send radio transmissions _and _an Autobot distress signal, resulting in her complete and total isolation in the middle of space.

Just cycles beforehand, the female flying Cybertronian had received a transmission signal from the planet Earth, from Optimus Prime. She had responded to the call, saying that she meant the planet no harm and she would be there as soon as she could.

But then she was intercepted by the Decepticon warrior Breakdown just passed the planet known as 'Pluto'. Being that she was much smaller, lighter, and not built to take such heavy hits, he easily had the advantage over her. However, since Splitwing had been sparked on the eve of war, she was quite skilled in the art of dodging. The action was pretty well all she had ever known, so facing Breakdown was hardly any different-except she had no team for backup and no medic for repairs.

After out-maneuvering the Decepticon, Splitwing made a mad dash to Earth, but she was not unscathed. She was leaking energon like an open tap and with her communications off-line, she would have to physically find the Autobots.

If she didn't die from her wounds first.


	2. Chapter I

CHAPTER_ I: IT'S A PLANE_

Splitwing hadn't realized her thrusters were so damaged until she glanced at her internal speedometer. Her regular cruising speed had been cut in half. With her lessened velocity, it took her nearly an entire decacycle to reach the planet. In that time, she spent the hours surfing the World Wide Web with her advanced scouting and hacking systems.

Despite the distance between her and the actual rock, she picked up some of the many languages on Earth, though she kept Mandarin and English at the forefront of her processor. She learned most of the humans' odd behaviors, their habits, cultures, and fanaticisms. She also found websites that illustrated blurry images of "UFO"'s and "aliens", though some looked suspiciously like Cybertronian bipedal forms. She decided to hack these sites under the user-ID 'Op-Shutdown' and erase all data pertaining to her species; simply because she could and had nothing else to do.

Splitwing had no idea what the Autobots' current status was on this world, but she decided not to take any chances.

The day finally came when she broke Earth's atmosphere. It _burned. _The scorching heat nearly burned her up, but her self-repair systems worked in overdrive to keep her cool. Under normal and healthy circumstances, the entrance would have gone down without a hitch, but since she was so damaged the heat entered her body and ate away at more fragile wiring.

When she hit top-side, she nearly entered stasis. She crashed through a small mountain, causing a rock slide, blew apart some foothills and finally came to rest in an old farmer's field.

It took her an entire thirty minutes of rebooting her systems before she could transform and stand onto her very hurt pedes. She grunted as her right leg jerked outwards, pulling on sensitive cables. The action caused her to collapse onto her knees, where she fell forward onto her servos.

She blinked rapidly beneath her visor, trying to keep her HUD's display online. She panted heavily from the fall, crash and her extensive wounds.

"_Eep!_"

Splitwing froze. Her gears and joints locked in place as cold realization spread through her veins.

One of the humans had seen her. That had _not _been the plan.

There he stood before her; small and terrified. His body trembled in horror at the sight of the giant _monster _above him. As she slowly raised her head to look at him, he struggled to withhold a scream.

He was solidly built, dark-skinned from working the fields, and his hair was sweaty and greasy from the day's work. His wide brown eyes went so very well with his short scruffy chocolate locks of hair. He wore a pair of worn out coveralls, muddy boots, and a ripped grey tee shirt.

His face was free of time's wear, suggesting to Splitwing that he was a young man of the species inhabiting the planet. Perhaps no more than seventeen or eighteen years?

Splitwing had a split-second before the boy turned heel and ran, so she did the only thing she could think of. She sprang into action faster than the human could even comprehend, wrapping her servos around him gently so as to not squish him, stood on her heel and sprinted away from the old white farm house she saw in the distance.

He could hardly swallow his fear and yet he kept silent, which mildly surprised the femme. Perhaps he was of the quiet type she had read about online.

She plowed through the fields, taking no notice to the destruction she left behind. Later she would double think her decision to run so mindlessly, but then she would reassure herself that her instincts would prevail; as they always did.

Splitwing jumped over a hill that came up to her waist and dove into the cover of the trees. The human said nothing. She scrambled through the bush on her knees for a little while, searching for suitable cover. Finally, she found a little rock cove that was large enough for her to crawl into. It was made of large boulders that had crashed into one another centuries ago, forming an upside down 'V' shape.

Once Splitwing felt she was safe enough she stopped her crawl and laid the boy out in front of her. He scrambled back on the rock, putting some distance between them. His face had gotten significantly whiter since she first saw him, so she did a quick internet search about skin colour changes. The result was that of his fear draining the blood from his face.

She settled onto her belly because the roof was not high enough to accommodate her height and cocked her head to the side, content to watch him with an unblinking gaze.

It felt like an hour, but in reality only seven minutes had passed since all had calmed and he at last spoke, "Stop that."

Splitwing blinked. She was unable to vocally reply to him because of her injuries, which left her at a bit of a loss. But then she had an idea, she smiled, _'Stop what?' _The bright white words flashed across her electric blue visor quickly, but the boy was still able to catch them.

"Staring. It's bothering me, you're the alien," he swallowed thickly and coughed in his unease. Some colour had returned to his cheeks, but his shoulders still shook a little.

_'As __are you.'_

He snorted and enunciated, "On this planet, you are an alien."

She paused, but agreed with the boy. She gave him a single nod and a query, _'Why so calm?'_

He scoffed at her question, "Don't get me wrong, I am completely and utterly terrified on the inside right now. I've read the theories online, but I didn't think they were true." The boy cleared his throat and Splitwing watched his hands shake, "What's stopping you from guttin' me right now?"

_'__I am an Autobot.'_

He frown and his eyebrows furrowed together into a thick dark caterpillar, "A _what_?"

_'__Autobot.'_

He waved his hand indignantly, "Yeah, I got _that_, but what _is _an Autobot?"

_'__Good and just.'_

_'__We stand for what is right.'_

He raised an eyebrow haphazardly and drawled, "So… you're here because… why, exactly?"

Her shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly in sadness. She blinked, her visor winking at the boy, _'Decepticons.'_

"Decepti-_whats_?"

_'__Destroyed my home planet.'_

His jaw dropped and his faced morphed into a look of horror.

_'__Cybertron is dead.' _Splitwing had steeled her emotions and had gone rigid in her change of mood. When Cybertron went dark, she knew it was supposed to mean something terrible and crushing like it had for the others, but all she felt was… quiet. The metallic planet had only ever been a place of blood and war to her, never truly _home. _She didn't tell the others of her feelings, because she feared becoming an outcast.

Splitwing hated isolation.

The boy took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Okay, so you're a giant living robot from the planet Cybertron – that is now dead – and you're here to… what was it, _hunt _Decepticons? By yourself?"

She shook her head in the negative, _'Find other Autobots.'_

"So, if you're a robot, don't you have some kind of… communication or a radio?" He asked and put his fists on each side of his head and wiggled his index fingers as if to represent antennae. It appeared as if a crude imitation of her long range scanners that protruded over her audial receptors.

She inwardly scoffed at his gesture, _'All com systems destroyed.'_

He appeared taken aback, "Destroyed?"

_'__In battle.' _She pointed to her damaged antennae on the side of her head that were no longer straight, but rather bent and torn open. They may not have been very fragile, but the organs were _very _sensitive. They hurt.

"Oh…" He breathed and frowned, "so, how do you plan on finding the others?"

She shrugged as best she could in her position and decided the best way to demonstrate to the boy her condition was to show him the footage. She reached out to nudge him aside – she did not miss the way he flinched at her approach – and gently pushed him at the waist.

Once he was out of the way and could not see her face, she retracted her visor for the first time in centuries and activated the footage her optics had recorded.

The scene opened up on the rock face, showing Breakdown and his one-mech ship racing towards her. She skipped a few scenes where the particularly gory bits came through, like when he had snapped her sensory radio-wave scanners (her antennae) and shoved his fist into her chest in an attempt to rip out her spark.

Obviously, his attempt failed, as Splitwing had managed to amputate his arm with a well-aimed swing at his elbow with one of her twin swords.

The human gasped and covered his mouth, but never looked away. At the end of the footage, Splitwing presented the holographic image of her Cybertronian jet form in the same shade of blue as her optics, but highlighted her wounded areas with red. Next to the jet, the 3-D image of herself faded in and rotated, showing the according injuries on her bipedal form.

"That's why…" he whispered and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You can't signal them or find them because you're too _injured._"

She nodded in accordance and let her visor fall back into place with a sharp _click._

"Alright then, what is that blue stuff you're leakin'?" He pointed to the energon oozing from the crater in her chest left behind by the 'con as he came around in front of her. _'Energon.'_

"And energon is…?"

_'__My life-source.' _The visor cleared as his eyes widened in realization, _'It is my blood.'_

"Holy sweet mother of Pete! You're _bleedin'_ to death?" He waved his arms around in exasperation, seeming to forget that she was an alien from a faraway planet. Splitwing was okay with that.

_'__Essentially, yes.'_

He ran his hands through his hair, "Alright, what happens now? Can you… turn into your jet form-thing?"

_'__Possibly.'_

"Possibly," he scoffed and rolled his eyes sarcastically, "thank you for your vagueness."

… _'__You are welcome.'_

He snorted, "Okay. Um…"

She watched him think. He drummed his fingers against his chin and crossed his arms. He also began to pace slowly, slapping his boots on the ground loudly. "Uh… Okay, _hypothetically, _I _could_ hide you in the barn."

Her metal brow rose a few inches.

He noticed, "_Or _I could try and get you into the local airport, but your jet is… not very human-like. Someone would notice."

_'__I can scan another form.'_

He glanced at her visor, "Huh, why don't I doubt that? Oh, yeah, you're an alien."

She blinked slowly.

He smacked himself in the forehead and mumbled to himself, "_God, _I'm talking to an alien robot, in a cave, trying to help it. Her, _her._" He glanced at her again and continued pacing, "Definitely not a dude."

She lifted one eyebrow, but took no offense. Femmes traditionally had extra chest plating to protect their spark chamber and carrying hold should they ever… reproduce manually. The baby Cybertronian's spark would grow and develop within the confines of the femme's (or occasionally a reformatted mech's) spark chamber, feeding off of specialized, nutrient laden energon the carrier would process specifically for the Sparkling. Splitwing scoffed at the thought, there hadn't been a sparkling since, well, before the war_. _She was one of the youngest Cybertronians in existence, but by far not immature. She had gained her adult frame a long time ago, perhaps even sooner than some older than her.

Regardless, with the war, most mecha and femmes decided it was a wise decision to not bring a sparkling into a life of war. Splitwing agreed.

Thus, her extra plating looked like a human female's breasts.

The boy suddenly stopped and turned sharply on his heel to stare at her, eyes twinkling in brilliance. She gazed back, waiting for him to speak.

"What if _I _fixed your communication system and then you could call your friends? I'm fairly mechanically inclined…" he trailed off, waiting to see her answer.

She said nothing for a solid two minutes.

He was getting nervous when her visor flashed with the word, _'Name?'_

"Name? What, like _my _name?" He pointed to himself, jamming his thumb into his chest.

She nodded once.

"Adam, Adam Wingates. I prefer to be called 'Win', too many guys named Adam these days," he shrugged indifferently.

_'__Win, are you certain?'_

He hesitated, but then laughed nervously, "Yeah, sure, why not? I mean, it's not every day that a giant wounded robot lands in my backyard."

Splitwing was elated that she had found an ally in the planet's native species. Had she remained alone, her spark may not have survived the strain of her injuries and the loneliness. She very gently used her index finger to turn his chin and thus his face towards her visor. This action proved to the boy how deep the sentiment ran in her next words.

_'__I am in your debt. W__in Wingates, thank you.'_

The brown haired boy grinned, "I'm gonna fix you, I promise."

She nodded and opened her ventilation system fully to eradicate the extra heat pooling in her damaged systems. Everything suddenly froze in a slight hiccup as the words flashed across her screen involuntarily, leaving Win to dabble in his confusion.

_'__STASIS LOCK PROTOCOL-__ACTIVATED.'_

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Eight Months Earlier _

_Autobot Outpost: Omega One_

Ratchet cursed them all. Every last one of them. He threatened them with a wrench, amputation, forced stasis, Primus help him, even to sic Fowler on them, but they didn't listen. Oh, Pit, they _never _listened.

He had given strict _medical _orders to his leader and old friend, Optimus, to take a day off for a much needed recharge. The Prime's back up batteries could only keep him online for so long. He may have been one of the – if not the strongest Autobot, but _Primus_, he could not work for seven days in a row without one recharge.

Recently a new Decepticon reinforcement had arrived to Earth. Jazz, the Autobot saboteur, had been sent on an information retrieval mission. After he infiltrated the Decepticon war ship, the Nemesis, he informed Optimus and the others that the new 'con was Breakdown.

The big blue fighter had been bragging of his last 'kill', which Jazz was unsuccessful in getting a name of the victim. However, Breakdown had used the words "femme seeker". There had not been an active Autobot femme seeker since Cybertron.

Optimus had been working endlessly to locate any remaining Autobot seekers, hoping with all hope that the flyer had survived. Ratchet, though, had had enough of his tiring job. The seeker could wait, Optimus could not.

Earlier that morning the seasoned field medic confirmed his suspicions when he sent a soft seeking ping towards the Autobots' strong leader and never received one back; that he had finally succumbed to a much needed rest.

He warned every 'bot on base that they were not to disturb him, and if he heard of any ruckus happening down the Prime's corridor, he would personally see to their silence.

And the next thing he heard was the murderous roar of a certain GMC Topkick bouncing through the halls. However, nothing was quite as deadly as the medic's glare as he exited the med-bay and stormed through the corridors in search of the weapons' specialist.

"_Ironhide!_" He howled and lifted a wrench above his helm. The large gunner came to a screeching halt at the end of the hall upon sight of the medic. He raised his arms in defense and backed away quickly from Ratchet.

"Ratchet, it was the twins. They compromised my cleaning solution for my cannons! It itches _horribly!_" He said as the ambulance Autobot waited for his explanation as to why he disobeyed his _direct _orders.

_Clang!_

"Ow!" Ironhide yelped as Ratchet smacked him upside the head with his wrench. The gunner was never happier that there were no humans around at that moment. He despised how Ratchet could turn him into a pleading, begging pile of scrap with a simple look. It was pathetic for his size and reputation.

But the medic was terrifying.

"What did I say?" He hissed menacingly, glaring at Ironhide.

The larger mech shifted ever-so nervously on his pedes, "To be quiet in the hallways because Optimus is in recharge."

"Precisely," the medic glowered and ground his denta.

"I'm _sorry_, but they put some kind of acid in-"

"-oh, I heard you the first time, _but, _so help you Primus, if you woke him up I'll-"

Ratchet was cut off as the very mech he was speaking about sprinted by him, a purple blur as his red and blue paint job mashed together in his haste.

The medic growled at the Topkick and pointed his wrench at him, "_This-_this isn't over."

Before Ironhide could blurt a single sound, he turned and raced after his patient, "_Optimus!_"

Both medic and gunner found the Peterbuilt semi typing away furiously at the con, analyzing the screen. Confused and worried looks plagued their features, until Optimus began speaking. "Unknown vessel, this is Autobot Outpost Omega One, identify yourself."

Ratchet quickly stepped up behind the Prime, watching as the strong signal cruised passed what he had come to know as 'Pluto'.

Static filled their audial receptors, the anticipation of a response raised the tension and hope in the room.

_"__Autobot Outpost Omega One, this is Communications Officer Cadet Splitwing."_

Everyone froze. Was that-?

Oh, it was. It was an _Autobot femme_, but not just any femme, it was a _cadet _femme_._ Cadets had all either graduated or been offlined in the attack all those eons ago, save Bumblebee and Smokescreen.

Then again, if they survived, it was perhaps not so outlandish that Splitwing could have survived as well.

Optimus recovered quickly as if he had not been shocked in the least and turned to Ironhide and Ratchet, "Can either of you verify her voice print?"

The 'bot gunner shook his head immediately, "Never worked with a Splitwing, or a cadet."

Ratchet narrowed his eyes, flipping through his medical patients files in search of a 'Splitwing'. After a solid fifteen seconds, he had her.

Centuries ago, he had to re-attach a wing ligament in a young inexperienced seeker who had just returned from their very first day doing an intensive training mission.

_"__Sit still, femme!" Ratchet had ordered and clamped a firm hand down on the restless seeker's back struts. _

_After a moment, she responded with a soft "Yes sir". _

_He rolled his optics and welded the panel back in place, tapping her shoulder plating twice in acknowledgment of his completion, "Take it easy, Splitwing, but you're back in working order."_

_ "__Thank you, sir," she stood off the medical berth with her optics glued to the floor. _

_ "__Thank you, sir."_

"Thank you, sir."

"I can verify her voice print, it is indeed Splitwing," Ratchet said after returning to the present.

Optimus gave him a single nod and turned back to the console, "Splitwing, it is good to hear from another comrade."

The femme paused, _"It is good to find you. I am currently two megacycles from earth."_

"We will send landing coordinates," he said and tapped a few keys.

_"__Affirmative, I will make contact when I am close to atmosphere," _she replied stoically and ended the transmission.

Ratchet scowled. _A fraggin' cadet. Might as well have sent a ship full of sparkling. _Ratchet wasn't fond cadets, they were too noisy and inexperienced for his liking.

_A fraggin' cadet. _


	3. Chapter II

_CHAPTER II: THAT'S A PRETTY PLANE_

_Present Day_

It had taken three quarters of an hour, but Win had finally helped Splitwing find a suitable alternate form. Just as they were about to give up and walk to the next airport, a sleek white, blue and red F-15 ACTIVE jet landed in the local airport.

Splitwing hardly needed any persuasion, she loved it. It was so close to her Cybertronian form that she was _very _pleased with its arrival.

She had barely managed to scan the craft when her programming tried to take over. To Win, it appeared as though her joints had suddenly gone rusty; her movements quickly slowing to become stiff and jerky.

"Splitwing? What's wrong? Is that normal?" He asked worriedly, going around to face her visor in the tall grass. She was laying on the other side of the hill next to the airport, Win next to her. He was slightly afraid to touch her, still put off that she was an alien creature.

_'__Stasis lock activated.'_

"What does that _mean_?" He clenched and unclenched his fists.

_'__Equivalent to a coma. - __Help me, Win.'_

He spluttered as she folded into herself with the loud, painful, crunching sound of ill-shaped gears and panels crumpling into another form.

Three long seconds later, a battered a bruised dark grey F-15 ACTIVE jet sat before him.

He tentatively stepped forward, taking small unsure steps, "Splitwing?"

No response.

He got close, so close he could reach out and touch her, "Splitwing?"

Still; nothing.

The warrior femme had succumbed to her wounds and fallen into stasis lock. Too bad she hadn't told him much about the protocol, because when it was activated the Cybertronian would become completely unresponsive.

He was on his own.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

It had taken Win quite a few hours to come up with a plan, and then to carry it out. He couldn't tell anyone about Splitwing, she had placed her trust in him and for some absurd reason he wanted to respect that.

Hence, he spent the rest of the night hauling a beat up F-15 ACTIVE jet behind a tractor down the highway and to the airport close to home.

It was six AM when Win pulled up to the old airport. An older fellow came out from the office to greet him, slightly surprised to see the young man.

"Mornin' Win, what's got you comin' 'round at this hour?" He asked, peering around the tractor to give an awe-stricken glance at the craft in tow.

The boy hitched a thumb towards Splitwing's alternate form, "Good morning, Paul. Found this abandoned in pop's south field. Figured I'd fix 'er up and go from there."

Paul rubbed his chin, eyeing up the jet, "Do you know much 'bout planes?"

Win snorted, "Hardly, but I'm willing to learn for her."

The silver-haired man raised his brow with a small smile, "Her?"

"I like to imagine that this doll is a fine lady," Win grinned playfully.

"Oh, alright," Paul laughed. "Put her in the back."

"Thanks Paul," he nodded sincerely. He threw the old John Deere in gear and pulled the "sleeping" Cybertronian around to the hangar farthest in the back and closer to the runway than he would have liked.

After they backed her in and unhooked her from the tractor, Paul stood back and once again rubbed his chin. Win came up behind him, seeing that he was looking at Splitwing.

He was worried he might sense something off in the aircraft, and was rushing to come up with an explanation when the older man sighed deeply.

"I suppose yer gonna need some help fixin' this _girl _up," he mused.

"Well-"

"-I'll help you."

Win froze, his mouth open and stunned. It took him a minute to bounce back and form a response, not that Paul was looking for one. "Yo-you will?"

He nodded, "It's obvious you don' know what you got yerself into, so's I'm gonna help you."

"Well, uh, thank you?" Win frowned uncertainly.

Paul turned away from the femme, going to close the shops' doors. Win scurried out before he was locked in, not realizing there was a smaller door down by the corner.

"It's been so long since I had a project _really _worth workin' on. This is gonna be fun, boy," the old man moved to the front office with a bit more skip in his step. He was excited, but Paul had never really been one to show his excitement.

Win watched with a small knowing smile as they both walked away from the comatose seeker.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Autobot Outpost Omega One_

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"She should have landed half a decacycle ago."

"You don't think I don't know?"

"Something's wrong."

"Thank you, _genius_."

"Watch your words, _gunner_."

"Ratchet, Ironhide, at ease, both of you," Optimus stepped into the room, having heard their little spat.

Both medic and weapons specialist turned to address their leader, but found the same worried look on his face. Their mouths stayed closed.

"I am well aware that Splitwing's arrival is late, and in response I have again sent Jazz to the Nemesis," he frowned and looked his comrades in the optics.

"Optimus, a _decacycle _with no word. We've all heard this story before," Ratchet sighed dejectedly. Often times, uncalled for radio silence led to an uncalled obituary.

"I will _not _make any assumptions at this point," Prime declared. "Ironhide, I need you to cover for Jazz's patrol schedule until other arrangements can be made."

Ironhide nodded, "Of course, Optimus."

"Ratchet," the medic looked to his leader, "I need your help in the main hangar."

The hummer nodded, "I'll go there now."

The large, blue, walking semi followed Ratchet out of the med-bay and down into the large hangar.

"What is it you need, Prime?" Ratchet asked as he turned to look at the Prime.

He walked up to the console, "I need you to find Splitwing's life signal."

Ratchet sighed and his shoulders dropped, "I have duties in the med-bay, I don't know if I can."

"Ratchet," Optimus vented a full cycle in a sigh, only showing his weariness and worry to his medic and old friend. "This is important, we cannot let a femme fall into Decepticon servos, let alone one of our own."

The medic pinched the bridge of his nose, "I know, Prime. I know. If someone needs my help, though-"

"That is all I ask, old friend," Optimus looked visibly relieved, which was a simple drop of his shoulders and the slight dimming of his optics.

Ratchet worked for seven hours uninterrupted – the rest of the day – but he found no sign of an energon life signal in the galaxy, let alone close to earth.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

A sleek navy blue motorcycle raced across the desert highway, engine revving and tires tearing up the asphalt. Sitting lazily astride the two-wheeler was a lanky teenage boy, who watched the passing scenery with more interest than the road.

It was quite obvious that he was not driving, as the handle bars moved without his guidance.

"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt," he shrugged non-chalantly and refused to look down.

The motorcycle sank forward on the front wheel in a sigh, "Jack…"

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. You're too busy with your search for energon and Con patrol, I get it."

The bike sighed again, "Jack, I'm not your wing-man."

"_One _ride," he insisted, waving his hand, "that's all I'm asking."

"And I'm not denying it, but not until Optimus is certain the Cons aren't hanging around base. It's not _safe_ right now," the bike said through the speaker system in a rather motherly tone.

Jack huffed, "You keep saying that, but Sadie isn't going to wait forever! She's gonna drift to-to Vince! And then I will die of embarrassment."

"_Jack," _the bike said firmly, "later."

The boy sighed and looked away at the side of the highway dejectedly. He frowned and ground his teeth slightly, disappointed that his guardian didn't understand where he was coming from.

But she did, and it broke her spark not to give the boy what he wanted, however, the Cons had been traipsing too close to home for her comfort.

A sudden crackling on Arcee's sensory gear threw her into high-alert, her audio receptors turned up to their highest setting.

_Thoom!_

Jack straightened immediately and whirled around on his seat, "What was that?"

A spot appeared on Arcee's scanners; the life signal of another Cybertronian!

_:Arcee to base, Ratchet, you seeing what I'm seeing?:_ She sent a transmission to the missile silo and kept an eye on the surrounding skies.

"Arcee, what is that?" Jack pointed at a dark speck in the distance.

She tuned her radar in on the direction of the approaching bogey, her nerves set on edge, _:__Ratchet?!:_

_:We see it, Arcee. Keep your distance, __Bulkhead and Ironhide are on their way. Whomever it is, they aren't responding to our summons,: _the seasoned medic finally spoke.

Arcee scowled and hit her brakes. Jack flopped forward onto her handle bars, "Too late!"

The bogey was incoming, and it was incoming _fast. _With its projected speed, it would crash in approximately twenty-five seconds, and Arcee didn't like the odds of Jack coming out of the blast range unscathed.

Jack crawled off Arcee and stepped back so she could stand up. She readied her blasters and frowned at the incoming bogey.

_:Arcee, get out of there!: _Ratchet called out over her feed.

"I can't!" She replied and bent down to grab Jack. He stepped up into her hand and she sprinted for cover, ducking behind a large boulder. She crouched as best she could, drawing Jack in close to her chest and covering him with her other servo.

He whimpered lightly and curled up in Arcee's palm, closing his eyes and clenching his hands.

The bogey approached in a fiery blaze, the air sizzling and popping around it. Arcee tightened her cables and wiring so she was in the smallest ball she possible could be with the human in her hands, giving him the best protection.

With a mighty _fwoosh _and a _THOOM _the bogey hit the ground so hard that it rattled Jack's teeth. His ears rang as Arcee, after a moment, stood up tentatively and readied her arm blaster. He blinked rapidly and squinted to see through the dust that had risen.

Arcee frowned and set Jack down on the ground, "Stay here."

He nodded slowly, grasping at the rock beside him so he might stay upright. The blue femme gave him a quick glance to ensure he was alright before turning towards the crash site.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Several Solar Cycles Earlier: A Distant Moon_

One large Cybertronian jet roared through the vast deepness of space, tearing apart the black silence. Following closely was another, slightly smaller and lighter seeker. They flew quickly, their flight patterns too erratic to be leisurely or planned.

They both ducked to the right, heading straight towards a bright luminous white rock. In pursuit was a large, black, ominous ship. It was a round 'U' shape with a central section that was attached between the two arms; the trophy case.

The flyers raced towards the rocks, hoping that there would be a cavern or crater big enough that they could hide from the inhabitant of the terrible ship.

_:Rail, we're in trouble!: _the small, white jet opened a communication link to her larger companion.

The dark copper coloured seeker dove straight down, throwing the large ship off kilter, :_I know. Spin!:_

The white femme acknowledged the command and fixed her flaps so she dove into a tight spin to the left, opposite of the copper femme. After seven seconds of the straight downfall towards the white rock, she righted herself and banked to the right.

The bigger femme stayed in her downward spiral for an extra three seconds before repeating the manoeuver a bit slower. The ship that had been converted from a mining craft shuddered from the strain of pulling a sharp turn, but continued the chase.

Both femme seekers were just meters above the surface, kicking up fine dust in their thrusters' wake. They zigged and zagged along the surface, hoping to disorientate their pursuant and find sufficient cover.

_:They have systems locked!: _the white jet warned, fearing they might get a shot at the pair.

The larger jet ducked left and rolled, :_Whatever happens, 'Blitz, one of us must get to the others.:_

_:Agreed,: _she said and watched as a thin black cable was shot from the ship, piercing her own right wing. She cried in pain from the sudden jarring of her sensitive appendage and deployed her flaps, seeming to come to a sudden halt. The reddish-brown seeker tore passed her and gaped, full of rage and terrified at the sight behind her.

'Blitz, as the other had called her, was jerked forward with the force of the accelerating ship, which ripped a jagged hole in her wing. The white seeker tried to counter the motion of the ship by flying directly beneath its 'trophy case' while twisting around and trying to get free of the tow cable.

Her right side was yanked up towards the ship as they began reeling in the line. She pointed her nose down and pushed her thrusters to max, and it seemed like she was making headway, but it only slowed the inevitable.

After two agonizing minutes of fighting the cable's motors, the copper seeker watched her friend be sucked into the vacuum of the enemy ship.

With a choked cry she accelerated to her maximum speed, leaving them in her wake.

_:S__nowblitz!:_

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Present Day: Jasper, Nevada_

From the dust rose a tall, thick, femme flyer. A _femme flyer; _Arcee was floored. She hadn't seen a femme flyer since she left Cybertron. These days, many figured they had been wiped out during the dog fights in Cybertron's skies, but Arcee guessed that some must have survived, other than the one who supposedly answered Optimus' call a decacycle ago.

Despite her surprise, she aimed both blasters at the Cybertronian, unsure of her chosen faction. She was neither close enough nor clean enough for Arcee to identify the insignia on her breast plates. The femme stood to her full height and glanced around with curious, blue optics, her stance wary and cautious.

As soon as she caught sight of Arcee, she dropped into a defensive crouch, her arms shifting into fair-sized cannons.

"State your designation and rank!" Arcee commanded and bent her knees, allowing her weight to shift to the tips of her pedes.

After a long pause, the copper seeker cocked her head to the side with narrowed eyes, "_You _first."

"_Arcee, _Lieutenant of the Autobots," she sneered and charged her weapons, "now _talk._"

"Autobots? Oh, thank _Primus! _I was certain you were a 'con," the femme's vents open and released air in a relieved sigh. "I am Railhead, also of the Autobots."

"Who is your commanding officer? Where is your team?" Arcee lowered her weapons, inwardly grateful that no energon would be spilt that day. She relaxed her stance and approached the other femme.

"Splitwing, and that is why I am here alone. We lost our commanding trinemate soon after our departure from the Andromeda system in a Con ambush and 'Blitz…" she trailed off, her short, broad wings slapping flat against her back and her servos trembled.

Arcee stepped up until she was right in front of the femme, only coming up to her chest. She could see the disheartened frightened look in her dim blue optics, "Railhead? What happened?"

The reddish-brown Autobot's mood changed instantly, her faceplates shifting into a scowl, "Snowblitz intercepted a radio signal transmitting from a neutral mining ship. It was deeply encoded and it took her a long time to crack it. The message was… disturbing. We had begun flying towards the signal's receiving end, and were practically on top of it when she told me what the message was." Railhead paused, deep in the banks of her memory files, very likely reliving the exact moment she spoke of.

Arcee could see her optics flicker and flutter about as if watching the scene like it was a video file on fast-forward. The two-wheeler lifted a finger to the side of her head and activated a transmission, _:Ratchet, you there?:_

:_Arcee! What's going on?!:_ The cranky old medic demanded, just as the ground-bridge opened and the familiar, bulky forms of Bulkhead and Ironhide ran out, weapons active.

_t's an Autobot, we're returning to base. Keep the bridge open,: _Arcee said and turned to address the new arrivals.

Railhead shifted to the toes of her pedes, her full attention on the mecha, "Please tell me they're not 'cons, I don't have the juice to fight right now."

Arcee snorted, "Neither of them would make very good 'cons. Bulkhead! Ironhide! Relax, she's a friendly."

All three Autobots failed to notice Railhead stiffen considerably as the two mecha approached.

_"__She?" _Bulkhead guffawed and retracted his hammer, albeit a little slow. Ironhide raised an eyebrow and grunted. He inspected the filthy Cybertronian who stood before them and was certainly surprised to see a set of wings visible behind her shoulders.

Arcee nodded, "_She. _Boys, meet Railhead."

Ironhide waved once in welcoming and Bulkhead nodded his head. "Hi."

Railhead relaxed again, obviously exhausted from her travels.

Arcee turned back to face the femme, "We'll get you back to base where you can finish your story."

The copper coloured Autobot bowed her head in reprieve, elated to finally get out of the open, "I would much prefer that."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Win was frustrated and confused. He stood staring at the blue fluid pooling underneath the F-15 with a frown and knotting guts. He _knew _that the reflective liquid was important, but he couldn't for the life of him remember _how _important it was. Splitwing had said something about it being energy.

_Had it been energy?_

_No. Not energy, what was it? _He frowned and rubbed his chin vigorously. _Energ-ey. Energ-ay. Energ-an. Energ-on. Energon! It was energon, yes._

_Her _life source.

The young man jumped into action, grabbing sealant off the counter and went to the giant gouge in her belly. The edges were jagged and sharp, there were exposed frayed wires he feared if he touched he would be electrocuted, a major malleable pipe he figured was a fuel line that had been punctured, and scrap bits of metal and wiring were strewn about haphazardly.

It was a nasty wound. He imagined having a hole ripped into his chest, and just couldn't fathom the pain she must have been in. But she was robot, machines weren't supposed to _feel. _

On the other hand, she was also from an alien planet.

Win prepped everything like Paul had shown him earlier and went to work clogging the leak.

The job took him a solid three hours to complete, but when he finished there was no more energon coming from the line. He smiled, satisfied with his work, and stepped out of the hole. He spent the next couple hours cleaning off the floor, washing it down so that Paul wouldn't see the energon stains. If he asked, he'd probably try to pass it off as oil – maybe.

He wrapped the hose back up and dried his hands on his clothes, looking back at the dark grey, almost black, jet in the dark hangar.

She really would be something to look at, when she didn't look like she had flown through an asteroid belt.

Win decided his next course of action would be to try and find her communications. He had no idea where they had gone when she transformed, and she had neglected to mention it to him before she passed out. So, he grabbed the correct wrench and went about gently prying off little panels in search of the specific wiring that he had vaguely seen when she showed him her antennae.

While he was working, Paul stepped back into the hangar, "Win, did you want anything to eat? It's almost six."

The brown haired boy momentarily stopped his movements and turned to look at the older man, "Uh, maybe. Six, already?"

Paul chuckled and hobbled over to check on Win's progress, "Yes, it sure is. Your momma's probably wonderin' where you've been."

Win shook his head and popped off another little panel that was warped out of shape, "Nah, I gave her a call around lunch."

Paul shrugged, "Okay, well, I just ate."

"Eh, I'm not that hungry," Win mumbled through the wrench he had put in his mouth as his pushed aside other paneling and wiring to see it he could find the frayed circuitry.

"Never heard of a teenage boy that _wasn't _hungry. Well done, Win, you've managed to surprise me. What 're you working on?" He asked and shuffled up to peer over the boy's shoulder.

"I'm looking for, uh," he stalled out, but figured he might as well tell a bit of the truth, "I'm looking for damaged stuff."

Paul blinked slowly, "Damaged stuff."

"Yes," Win cringed, knowing Paul couldn't see his face. _Oh, that was bad, couldn't have come up with something better? Nope, sorry Win, you suck at hiding shit. _

Paul gestured to the plane in her entirety, "Well, look no further. The whole thing's _damaged stuff. _You're looking for something specific, aren't you?"

Win's face paled, but said nothing.

"I get it," he sighed, "just tell me what to do, boy."

The brown eyed, young man frowned, but didn't question him, "Uh, these panels need to be pounded out?"

"You sure about that?" Paul smirked and picked up a panel Win had pulled off that he had set on the floor.

Win cleared his throat, "Ye-yeah, I am."

Paul smiled knowingly, this was not any ordinary plane. The way Adam treated it, this beast was special.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Ironhide vented drearily as he cruised along the desolate gravel road. Sitting in his driver's seat was Major William Lennox, keeping his eye on a small hand-held scanner in his lap. In the passenger seat was one of his closest friends, Staff-Sergeant Robert Epps, mindlessly picking the dirt out from under his fingernails.

The truck released an encoded transmission call to any and all Autobots within a twenty mile radius, the results and any responses would show up on the receiver in William's hand and Ironhide's internal system.

Nothing responded to his call.

"Woah, woah! Hit the brakes 'Hide!" Lennox perked up in his seat, eyes glued to the receiver.

"What?" The gunner asked confused and slowed quickly to a stop.

"Something – there was something on the screen," he mumbled and tapped a few keys on the little device.

"I saw nothing on my sensors," Ironhide grunted, but rescanned the surrounding thirty miles just in case the seasoned warrior missed something.

Lennox frowned as the blip on his receiver disappeared, "Now it's gone."

"Gone? It was never there," Ironhide snorted. His second scan revealed nothing.

Epps leaned over and glanced at the screen in his friend's lap, "What'd it look like?"

Will shook his head, "I don't know, it looked small, but it passed too quickly."

"How small?" Ironhide asked.

"Jazz or Bumblebee sized, not overly big," Lennox replied.

Ironhide continued slowly down the road, sending out the call again and focusing on his radar.

But whatever – _whomever _– it was, was long gone.


	4. Chapter III

_CHAPTER III: THE COPPER LADY_

Ratchet welcomed them to base with his intrusive scanner the second they set foot through the bridge. Railhead was no exception, stepping away from the sudden medical assault. She raised her arms in defense, "Woah-ho, lemme get through the door, 'doc."

Ratchet grumbled nonsense about ungrateful younglings, but continued his examination, guiding her towards the med-bay. She blinked at the sudden change of surroundings, slightly nervous around the surgical equipment. She hated operations.

"Sit still," the old red and white ambulance ordered and began to assess what was damaged.

Not ten minutes later, the pair were joined in the medical bay by Arcee and a very tall and very regal looking mech. Railhead would have considered him handsome, had she been considering bonding with anyone just yet. Despite the mating protocol's persuasion in her processor, she wasn't.

Something also told her that he was a very important bot, judging by the way he held himself and the tightness of his back struts. The guy was stressed out.

Seriously.

"I'm busy, Prime!" Ratchet growled.

"I know, however I would like to question our newest arrival," the large mech responded in a soft, kingly tone.

Nice voice, too.

Railhead laughed at herself, a _Prime. _She was sitting before the leader of the Autobots and she admitted to thinking he was _handsome. _

_ Eh, _he was. Nothing was really gonna change that. She shrugged inwardly and turned to watch Ratchet fiddle with his scanners.

"Very well," the seasoned medic glowered without breaking his stride.

After a moment of quiet, Optimus broke the silence, "Railhead."

The femme saluted, "Sir, yes sir!"

Arcee raised a brow alongside her leader, but Railhead simply smiled her shit-eating smile.

Optimus continued, "Arcee has informed me that you are part of a trine."

Her smiled dropped immediately, "Yes, but I don't know if using present tense is proper in this situation."

"How so?" Prime questioned.

She sighed, "Because Snowblitz and I lost contact with our commander, Splitwing, shortly after a 'con ambush separated us back near Andromeda." Arcee's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the mention of the other femme. Railhead paid little mind to her reaction, "And when we were coming into _a different _system, Snow intercepted an encoded transmission. It was coming from an old mining ship. Turned out that it belonged to Lockdown."

She growled and bared her denta at the wall, "That pile of scrap got a hold of Snowblitz, and I've got no way in the Pit of knowing why. I haven't talked to Snowblitz in four solar cycles and Splitwing in… a long time."

Prime's optics narrowed at the new information, trying to process why Lockdown would capture Snowblitz, and he came up with two. However, he wasn't so sure that Railhead was in the best of conditions to know about his thoughts, "Thank you for telling us, Railhead. After Ratchet has finished with you, Arcee will show you to your new quarters."

Railhead nodded her helm quietly, looking intently at the floor. Optimus turned and left the med-bay, leaving the his Lieutenant behind.

It took nearly an entire day for Railhead to fully recover. The majority of her repairs were minor, including buffing and the soldering of her less important pipes. Most of her terrible appearance could be summed up with normal atmospheric entrance expectancies and exhaustion. Her extended flight in space seemed to have little effect on the femme, save the slightly bouncy way she walked and how she wobbled on her pedes.

She'd get used to it with time.

Said female was in the rec room the Cybertronians shared with the humans, spreading her tale of woe and bragging of her victories since her last contact with Autobots. _That _had been a long time ago.

"You _actually _ripped out his spark?" Miko, a small lanky Japanese teen, watched the femme with awe-struck eyes. She grasped the scaffoldings' railing with a tight knuckled grip, leaning over as much as she was entranced in the Autobot's story; which left her nearly falling over.

Railhead shrugged non-chalantly, "It was that, or watch as he blasted my head off. I prefer to stay on-line."

"Wow, so wish I could have seen it!" Miko whined loudly, pulling her pink flip phone from her back pocket. "I could've gotten some sweet pictures!"

"One day, I'll show you some stills I've collected," Railhead smirked, crossing her arms proudly.

"That would be – _awesome!_" Miko squealed excitedly.

"Woah – woah, I don't think Miko needs to be seeing _those _kind of pictures, she sees it enough around base," the dark haired boy Railhead had come to know as Jack stepped up.

Miko grumbled, "I still want to see them."

Railhead smirked, "You will."

Jack frowned deeply, reminding both females of Optimus' 'displeased' look. They snickered in tune with one another in response.

"Please tell me you're not trying to bring the building down," a gruff voice sounded from the entrance.

Railhead turned on her heel to see none other than her old, very old, commander again, "Ironhide."

The mech narrowed his optics and entered the room cautiously, also keeping an eye on Miko. She was known around base for causing trouble, "Do I know you?"

The copper femme looked mildly sad for a moment, but passed it off with feigned hurt, "You don't remember me? My, you must be becoming one pile of rusty bolts."

The gunner growled, "Watch your glossa, femme."

She snorted, "Name's Railhead, I was under your command during the battle for Delta Vegma." She didn't mention the bond they had shared too. If he didn't bother to recognize her, there was no point in bringing up the past.

"Can't say I 'member. I've worked with a lot of bots since Delta Vegma," Ironhide frowned.

Railhead shrugged indifferently and mumbled, "Didn't think you would."

Miko sensed Railhead's deepening mood, and decided to try and relieve her of whatever spiral her processor was taking, "So, Railhead! Wanna tour of the base?"

The copper bot looked up at the human with a sad smile, "I'd like that very much, Miko."

The Japanese girl grinned, "Great!"

After Miko's two hour special tour of HQ, Railhead receded to her personal quarters. No one had heard word of her since, guessing she was in recharge.

Railhead was indeed in her quarters. She sat silently on the berth, a small data chip in hand. She turned it over lightly in her servo thoughtfully, her lips puckered and her brow furrowed.

She didn't know what to do. Splitwing had ordered her and Snowblitz to deliver the information to a higher ranking officer other than _him, _but without either of them there it didn't feel right.

No, she wouldn't hand over the data until they were with her or proven offline. She would protect that chip with her life if need be.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Optimus decided it was time Railhead was made aware of Splitwing's response to his message.

He summoned both her and Ratchet to the security office, the only place on base that was semi-private at that moment. He figured that Railhead may put up a tough face, but was unsure of what her reaction would be to the news.

Ratchet arrived first, his transkit in hand per Optimus' request, "What is it, Prime?"

His great shoulders sank at such a fraction that only the trained medic could catch the action, "I have decided to tell Railhead about her commander."

The red and white ambulance frowned, "I do agree, however taxing it may be on her systems. I just finished repairing her."

Prime nodded once, hoping that the femme would be alright. The mighty leader cared deeply for each and every one of his soldiers, and hated seeing any in pain.

He steeled himself for the conversation about to take place. He was truly curious, Splitwing had identified herself as a cadet, but Railhead had said she was her commander. How did a disappeared femme cadet become a commander?

Railhead walked in not two minutes later, optics bright with curiosity, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Come in and please close the door," Prime said, standing on the other side of the security console, preparing the relevant data stored in its hard drive.

Railhead raised an eyebrow, but complied with his request, stepping up to stand alongside the medic. Ratchet had opened his transportable medical kit and prepared a mild sedative, only to be used in the most extreme case should Railhead panic.

"What's this about?" Said Cybertronian asked suspiciously.

"A decacycle ago, we received a response to the same transmission you answered to," Optimus began displaying the audio file, playing it on low volume so he may speak over it. "Your commander, Splitwing, said she would be arriving to Earth within a megacycle, however, we have heard no word from her since this transmission."

Railhead froze, all struts, cables and hydraulics tensing up to an immeasurable level. Ratchet watched her responses very keenly, waiting to decide whether or not he should administer the sedative; not yet.

"What of it?" She said softly.

Prime gave her a slightly sympathetic glance, "Four orns ago, the Decepticon wrecker Breakdown was reported to have joined his brethren. We have reason to believe he was claiming victory over the death of an Autobot femme."

Her ventilation systems hitched, all shafts closing off in a hiccup.

"Have you had any contact with Splitwing since Andromeda?" Optimus asked.

She shook her head sluggishly, in a daze, "No. I-" she coughed, "so, does this mean she's off-line?"

"We are unaware of Splitwing's current state or whereabouts."

The whole room was silent, not even the rhythmical humming of their vents could be heard. Ratchet was on stand-by, close enough to Railhead he could feel her body heat rising. She needed to release the heat or she may glitch, or worse overload her internal systems. Optimus watched her closely, waiting for her reaction.

"You must vent," Ratchet reminded softly, hoping to not spook her.

A sudden blast of hot air assaulted the ambulance as Railhead immediately complied, having given into her self-repair protocol. Holding that heat in for too long must have activated the procedure.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose while mumbling, "First Snowblitz and now Splitwing. Could this _get _any worse? Oh, yes it could. They could _both _be off-line."

Ratchet frowned, "Do not speak like that. You know that we will try our hardest to find them both."

Optimus bristled slightly at Ratchet's _belligerent_ intervention, hoping that Railhead wouldn't retaliate in aggression. However, she managed to surprise them both.

"How can I help?" She asked in a very submissive tone. Her head was bowed, but both mecha could see the fire lighting in her blue optics, raising her shoulders and straightening her back struts.

Optimus smiled fractionally, "You will begin by joining the others in active duty."

Railhead grinned, "Perfect."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"I don't care _how _you do it, just get me the location!" The low gravelly voice of the Cybertronian on the monitor shouted angrily. He bared his sharpened denta and growled deep in his throat.

"Of course, Megatron. I wouldn't have it any other way," said the self-righteous bounty hunter in return. The transmission ended and the humanoid black mech stood from his captain's chair, turning on his heel to leer at his feet.

Bent and broken, a small, white Autobot femme glared back. She spat energon from her mouth, knowing it was all she could do. She had learned long ago that fighting her bonds would get her nowhere.

The black Cybertronian kneeled down so he could lift her face with his finger, stroking her chin with his thumb, "You were once quite aesthetically appealing, but I have taken that from you."

"I don't need a reminder," she spat and jerked her helm free from his grasp.

He smirked, "Oh, I am quite certain of that. However, what else can I take from you? Hm? Perhaps your wings would suffice."

Her tanks roiled at the mere thought of losing her wings, but she could still one-up her captor, "You and I both know that if you took my wings, I would offline."

"Yes, you're right," he chuckled sadistically, "I suppose I'll have to make do with removing your armor."

She began to speak, but her words turned into an ear-shattering scream as the mech stretched down and tore a piece of her shin armor away with a wrench of his arm.

"Where is the Autobot base?"

She recovered from the pain and snarled, "I would never tell the likes of you."

"Oh, that's a bad move," he tsked, reaching for her other leg.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Railhead learned the next day that the resident saboteur had become the equivalent of a physician and an agility trainer. Jazz greeted her in the morning by waking her from recharge while hanging from her ceiling with a pleasant 'G'mornin'! Time ta get ta work, lil' lady!'

She never questioned how he had broken into her quarters, or why he had been on the ceiling, she simply rolled off the berth and followed the small mech to the 'training gym'.

The silver Autobot began by having her mimic simple stretches, determining her areas of weakness, stiffness and range of motion. He summed her up to be the 'big and tough' kind of gal, not built for speed or agility.

So, the following exercises were accordingly created to push her limits and bring her back to fighting capability after cruising idly through space for so long.

Next, he did a little sparring, hoping to limber her up some more.

"C'mon! Hit me!" He grinned, dancing on his pedes with his fists raised, much like the position of a human boxer.

Railhead frowned, "Wouldn't that… hurt?"

His grin morphed into one of mischief, "Jus' try."

With a rolled of her optics she shifted to the toes of her pedes and took a swing at the 'bot.

He easily dodged, zipping behind her to stick two of his digits into her neck cables, mimicking the human gesture for a hand pistol, "Bang, Ah gotcha!"

"Oh, so _that's _how you want it?" She glowered playfully, turning her head to look at Jazz through the corner of her optic.

He smirked, "You bet."

She imitated his smirk and before he could process her attack, she swept her left leg in a low circle, taking his feet out from under him. Before he could hit the ground, however, he caught himself with one arm, twirled and pushed himself back up, "Nicely done! Again."

Railhead moved to jab him in the gut, but he easily blocked and smacked her own. She grunted and punched at his face, which he ducked to avoid and jumped in close. He leapt up and hooked the underside of her chin with one fist in an uppercut, back-flipping away with his shit-eating grin on his face plates.

He laughed lightly, "Gotta move faster, Rail! Tha smaller 'cons ain't gonna go easy on ya!"

She groaned, "Then how about I stick to the bigger, slower and dumber ones?"

Jazz scoffed, "Good luck with that."

She shrugged, "Worth a try."

He chuckled, "Of course, now, again!"

She barely – _barely _– dodged his lunge. Railhead was in for one helluva day.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Ratchet and Optimus were back in the security room, reviewing all the data they possessed regarding Splitwing. They were both puzzled by her complete disappearance, and it bothered them to no end.

"If she was in danger or damaged, would she not transmit a distress signal?" Ratchet mused thoughtfully.

"I do not know, perhaps she was too heavily damaged, or the Decepticons activated a frequency blocker," Optimus replied.

"I don't believe _any _bot, other than Jazz, could just disappear like this," the medic growled. The number of times the silver spy managed to elude his medical examinations always left the mech in a bitter mood. He often had to resort to bringing some other bot in to trap the slick Autobot.

"Though I agree, I also feel…" he trailed off, truly only comfortable with expressing his emotions with his old friend, Ratchet. He always hesitated though, careful about his words, "… that something is amiss. As though there is something we have not checked or seen. I believe that something is wrong, Ratchet."

The medic nodded slowly in accordance, "I have the same feeling in my tank. But, what can we do about it? We have no clue where she is, and none of our transmissions have gone through."

"It is as if there is no one on the other end, and I fear this may turn into a tragedy," Prime muttered grimly.

Ratchet sighed, "The only thing we can do is continue surveillance and perhaps increase patrols. Maybe she made it Earth and simply has not come out of the stasis pod."

Optimus vented lowly, how he hoped that he had not lost another soldier, another Cybertronian, to this endless war.


	5. Chapter IV

_CHAPTER IV: MEET YOUR MAKER_

_Optical Systems Rebooting…_

"This is one helluva plane you found, Adam," Paul's muffled voice radiated from inside the F-15's cockpit.

Win tensed, every time Paul mentioned something about how 'marvelous' Splitwing was, he feared that he had discovered that she really wasn't man's technology.

_Audial Receptor Systems Online…_

He laughed nervously, "Yeah, yeah she is."

"This thing is a beauty! Gracious, once we beat the dents out of 'er, she's gonna bring you all the girls," he chuckled amicably as he reemerged from Splitwing's pilot's seat.

Win exhaled heavily in relief, his hands on his hips as he took a big breath, "You sure about that?"

_Short-Range Scanners: Damaged…_

"Would I lie?" Paul grinned and jumped down.

Win shrugged good-naturedly, and turned to wipe his oily hands on a rag, "Well…"

Paul snapped his own cloth on Win's back, "Oh, you little shit!"

_ Long-Range Scanners: Disabled…_

Win laughed, and 'cowered' in the shop's corner, "Have mercy!"

Paul turned away grumbling, glancing out of the half open door. Outside there were very few people milling about, possibly going to go for a fly during the darkening weather. He saw storm clouds in the distance and hoped they would simply pass over them.

_ Spark Chamber Casing: Damaged…_

Win followed the old man in dirty coveralls and looked outside. The sky was grey and the sun was blocked by the cloud cover; he could see the gross, black thunder clouds rolling in.

He glanced back at Splitwing, unsure of her condition.

The unease coiled his guts into a tight ball, the worry about her _survival _and the possibility of Paul finding out about her true identity was just eating him alive from the inside out. The storm coming in didn't help to ease his discomfort.

_ Short-Range Communications: Disabled…_

He turned away from the tarmac and sighed. Oh, Splitwing was in _rough _shape. Her entire fuselage was battered beyond recognition, her right wing was ripped and torn to pieces and there was a giant hole in her underbelly.

He had a _lot _of work to do.

_ Long-Range Communications: Disabled…_

Splitwing was becoming conscious. She could hear two humans shuffling around her landing gear and the light swipe as they ghosted their fingers across her metal.

She was curious of the casual touches and so activated her damaged short-range scanners. Standing under her nose was Win, shifting on his feet anxiously. His face presented a far-away look, his eyes glazed over deep in thought.

He coughed nervously and shuffled about.

_ Coolant Systems: Offline…_

Splitwing was suddenly struck by overwhelming pain. Her right wing throbbed, her vocal processor ached and her underbelly burned.

She was supposed to be in stasis lock; she knew it.

_So, why was she conscious?_

She had no clue.

_ Joint Fuel Lines: Damaged…_

Something was wrong; nothing showed on her HUD. Not that it would, because all her sensors were damaged too heavily and she could barely think through the pain. Her nerve receptors were working full throttle, but how she wished they _weren't_.

_ Joint Nerve Receptors: Damaged…_

Everything _hurt. _She could feel the energon oozing from her extensive wounds. The dents pulsed like nasty bruises, her mesh _ached. _

_ Heavy Armor Plating: Damaged…_

Win was floating away from her mind. The quiet _shh-shh _of his heavy boots against the cement floor was drifting far far away, becoming all but an echo.

_ Light Armor Plating: Damaged…_

Then he was gone. The pain flared up into a scorching fire that consumed all her senses.

Then: she was gone.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

After presenting Will's findings to Prime, Ironhide had been ordered to gather the others and report to the main hangar.

The abandoned missile silo, at one point, had not been huge. However, since the Autobots moved in, there had been some major renovations; which included the addition of more levels and wider hallways.

The large Autobot gunner tromped at his usual casual pace through the gaping corridors, barking out Prime's order into select rooms as he went. Truthfully, he could have simply sent out a transmission, but it was much more fun to catch the others doing things they really should not have been, like Bulkhead trying to smash Sideswipe into the floor.

"_Dumbaft! _You could hurt one of them you know!" The large rounded Autobot cried, infuriated. When things came down to Sideswipe, infuriating was a common term.

"She was completely safe! I'm not clumsy!" Sideswipe countered vindictively.

Bulkhead rubbed the silver 'bots face into the floor, resulting in an _"Oof!" _from him, "I don't care! This is _Miko _we're talkin' about!"

"Bulkhead!" Said human cried from the scaffolding, "dude! I'm fine! Stop pounding the poor 'bot so we can watch the monster trucks!"

Bulkhead growled and let go of Sideswipe.

Ironhide snorted, amused, and moved on after shouting at Bulkhead to "move his aft". He waited for no response and continued on his merry way, towards the main hangar.

Not twenty minutes later, all Autobots were gathered in the cramped hangar. Every one of them had a good personality, but now they all faced Optimus with stoic battle faces, eager to hear of the cadet seeker.

Among the most curious was the small silver saboteur. He was very familiar with a story he'd heard a _long _time ago that sounded suspiciously close to the case of the missing cadets.

"Autobots," Prime began in his commanding tone, "we have a situation. We believe that the seeker we heard from two megacycles ago is in hiding somewhere in this region, north of the United States' border." He brought a geological map up on the monitor screens, highlighting the area where Ironhide had patrolled with Lennox and Epps earlier that same day in Canada.

"I am sending in Bumblebee and Jazz to scout out the area and determine where the stray signal originated from, but I want everyone to be ready as backup, as this may be a possible Decepticon trap," Optimus pointedly looked at his silver spy and yellow scout. Normally, he would have sent Arcee with Bumblebee on a scouting mission such as this, but being that she was on another mission, she was out of the question. He'd also noticed how antsy the saboteur had become.

Bumblebee chirped in acknowledgment, Jazz stepped up to ask, "When do we leave?"

"Now."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Win chewed thoughtfully on an apple as he looked over Splitwing's appearance. He had managed to salvage some of what he figured was scanning equipment—Paul had actually been the one to label it.

'_That's a pretty impressive piece 'o work right there, boy I tell ya. Wouldn't mind if that was in my lil' Cessna,' _he'd said. Win had nearly died on the spot, thinking he was going to figure it out. When he just went about his business repairing the piece of equipment, Win had never felt more relieved.

He had managed to straighten out Splitwing's fuselage, which had been no easy feat. That thing had been busted up so badly that Paul was thinking they'd have to completely replace it. Of course there was still a gaping hole in it, but Win was determined to fix that too.

In fact, he had pretty much fixed most of Splitwing's outer appearance, but it was the inner circuitry that worried him. He wasn't sure how much more he could fix without resorting to more help. Maybe if he could get her communications back online, he could somehow get a message to her allies.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Jazz and Bumblebee drove out of the ground-bridge after a quick briefing from Prime. They ended up on a desolate highway, some nasty storm clouds gathering in the distance.

The saboteur had indeed been going stir crazy while sitting idle around base. He'd only been on two real important mission since his last infiltration of the Nemesis and his lack of results hadn't sat well with him.

_:You go north, I'll go south?':_Bumblebee buzzed as they approached an off ramp.

Jazz hummed in agreement, :_Stay close, though.: _

With a happy chirp the Camero raced off the highway, spraying Jazz's alt-mode with dust from the road. The silver spy scoffed, then smiled at the young scout's antics.

Bumblebee drove quietly down the rural road, keeping his optics on his scanners. :_Unidentified Autobot, this is Autobot Scout Bumblebee, respond,: _he broadcasted over an open line, hoping that whomever was in the area would hear it. He wouldn't say it, but he was getting concerned over their shrinking numbers. The war would never go in their favor if the Decepticons kept picking them off one by one.

Pulling a sharp turn, 'Bee zipped down another paved road—only this one wasn't in very good shape. He grumbled silently about human maintenance crews' incompetence as he hit a particularly rough pot hole.

Bumblebee had never liked 'con surprises, so when he had been surveying the rough terrain in the distance, he had been very displeased when three Decepticon goons dropped down on him. They literally fell out of the sky and landed on top of him, slamming onto his roof and scratching the paint.

The one standing on top of him whipped out his blaster and aimed for his hood, in hopes of destroying his engine. Unfortunately for the drone, Bumblebee would not be taken so easily. He transformed in a split-second and bucked, throwing the flying 'con into the air. The scout armed his own double blasters and fired at the stunned attacker.

The purple flyer evaded the Autobot's shots, distracting him long enough that his two companions could get the jump on the 'bot from behind. Red laser fire lit up Bumblebee's optics, alerting him to the imminent danger. He ducked and rolled to the right, coming up on his knees to shoot at the other two.

The scout scowled, _and to think he was about to return to base_. His call to any Autobots in the area had yielded no results, not even so much as a squeak on his com.

"Stand down, Autobot!" The violet seeker drone hissed from the sky, his blasters primed and aimed at Bumblebee's head.

'Bee lunged aside just as the drone fired, himself shooting at the two grounded 'cons. With his back turned momentarily, the flyer took the advantage and dove for his door-wings, transforming and grabbing the sensitive organs in his claws.

With a vicious extension of his arm, the drone threw Bumblebee across the road, through the trees and onto the black tarmac of an airport.

The scout moaned as he tried to regain his senses, squirming on his back in an attempt to establish his new surroundings.

The Decepticons fired their shoulder thrusters and flew over to the downed Autobot. One landed next to Bumblebee's head and stepped heavily on his chassis, holding him down.

"Say hello to your maker, Bumblebot," the drone sneered and readied his blaster.

_:Jazz!:_

**ORDER VYNYAN**

All of Splitwing's systems slowly rebooted, sending her HUD self-prescribed diagnostics. Everything was so sore, barely operational, but the numbers said she would not function at full capacity for quite some time, especially if she didn't get _Cybertronian _help soon. She groaned internally and cycled air through her systems slowly in an annoyed sigh. Her ventilation system wasn't working at full capacity either, but at least she was still on-line.

She began a slow survey of the area, which was more routine than mandatory. Living her entire life under the sick, tyrranical command of a certain mech had not left her without its haunting habits and memories. She stifled a Cybertronian yawn and scowled at the pain in her – _everywhere. _

_Autobot Life Signal Detected – Short Range: Designation Bumblebee_

The surprising information caught Splitwing off guard, _Bumblebee was here? _She tried to activate her motion sensors, but they were too heavily damaged to work.

She was tempted to growl, but too elated to be negative.

_Decepticon Life Signal Detected – Short Range: 3 Attack Class Drones_

Oh, Pit no. She started her spluttering engine and eased herself forward out of the hangar, checking to see if any humans were around. Win was sauntering slowly her way, but the ruckus on the tarmac stole her attention.

A small yellow Autobot grounder was pinned to the asphalt by the pointy pede of a Decepticon drone, surrounded by two others.

Splitwing acted before she could think, leaping into action.

She unfolded gracelessly from her jet form for the first time in two months, drawing forth her twin blades from subspace. Charging towards the grappling group, she readied herself for the attack.

A split-second later, she leapt up from behind Bumblebee's head and drove her sword up through the spark of his attacker, twisting the blade just to be sure. She slowly pulled back as the drone gasped, falling sluggishly to the ground.

It took a full sixty milli-seconds for the other two drones to process what just happened, the loud crash of their comrade hitting the tarmac drawing forth their battle programming once more.

The ensuing chaos lasted less than a minute. Splitwing twisted on her heel and with a well calculated throw, she lobbed the same sword at an approaching 'con. The sharp blade sliced clean through his helm, leaving newly exposed circuitry to spark and frizzle. He too, toppled to the ground.

The third 'con roared and sprinted towards Splitwing, guns blazing. The small femme ducked and dodged the shots, running towards him. When they were close enough together, she dropped into a skid on her back, swinging her left leg out to sweep the drone's legs out from under him.

Before he even hit the ground, she was on top of him. He scrambled to roll out of the way, but Splitwing brought her other sword down on his chassis, carving through his chest plates easily.

He gasped and spluttered, but with his extinguishing spark he could form no coherent sentence.

His body went lax and Splitwing held her defensive stance for another few seconds before toppling over next to him, panting rapidly. _Everything _was overheated. Her coolant system wasn't just damaged, it was practically nonexistent.

Meanwhile, the femme seeker had failed to see the other Autobot climb to his pedes. He watched with wondrous optics as Jazz flew up next to him.

"Wha's the problem?!" He questioned and came to a screeching halt, talons at the ready.

Bumblebee pointed to the collapsed femme and chirped solemnly, :_She took care of it.:_

Jazz lowered his weapons and blinked slowly behind his visor, inspecting the damage around him. One Decepticon drone lay before him with a clean hole through his chest, another was missing half his head, and the last lay with a silver sword sticking out of his chassis.

He jumped at the gory sight before him, "Hey, are ya a'right?!" He raced over to the female Cybertronian and gently rolled her over onto her back, careful to keep her wings out of the way.

Her chest plates rose and fell in a quick succession. Jazz recognized it as a last ditch attempt to cool off internal systems; also known as 'panting'. He'd never had to do it much before, but he'd seen other bots, other _friends _forced to do the primitive action to reduce heat.

"Hey, hey! Look at me!" He gingerly turned her head in his hand to face him. The first thing he noticed was her beautiful blue visor glittering softly in the barely-there sunlight. The light behind it slowly dimmed until her visor was nothing but a light shade of grey. Her face guards retracted sluggishly to reveal her fine silver lip plating.

"Help…" she said in a hoarse voice. Her throat sparked at the use and she cringed before the words _'STASIS LOCK PROTOCOL: ACTIVATED' _flashed across the dim glass of her visor.

"Oh, no," Jazz mumbled. Bumblebee watched on over his shoulder, sending an emergency transmission back to the base.

_Splitwing!_" Came the distressed howl of a teenage boy across the tarmac. Jazz looked up to see a brown haired human sprint towards them, his own chest heaving, "Splitwing!"

"Who are you?" Jazz asked suspiciously, immediately leaning protectively over the unconscious femme.

The boy drew a deep breath and approached, taking no notice to Jazz's defensive position, "Win. I've been taking care of her for the past couple months, who are you?"

Jazz's optics narrowed, "Autobots, how do you know us?"

He breathed a laughed, "Hah, Splitwing crashed landed in my dad's field, right in front of me. She grabbed me before I could do anything else and viola, here we are."

Bumblebee blinked slowly, the whole time Ratchet had been searching the surrounding space around earth, she had actually been topside.

"Are you guys going to heal her?" He asked solemnly, his tone becoming serious. "She's been in a lot of pain, when she wasn't unconscious. I did what I could, but I'm not really a mechanical biologist."

Both mecha finally took notice to her extreme wounds. The gaping hole in her chassis looked sore, as did the damaged sparking of her communications circuits. Her armor was dented and her right leg was bent at an incredibly awkward angle.

Both Cybertronians also saw the faint beating of a blue light deep in Splitwing's chassis. _Oh, that's definitely not good, _Jazz thought.

Jazz nodded, "We're gonna get her the best medic we got."

Win nodded and stepped forward, subconsciously praying the giant (to him) silver robot wouldn't crush him. He placed a steady hand on Splitwing's shoulder and whispered, "Get better."

_:Bumblebee to base, we've got a situation.:_

It took a moment for them to respond, :_Ratchet here, what's the problem?:_

_ :We found the femme, she's heavily damaged and her spark chamber has been punctured.:_

There was silence, but Bumblebee had no doubt in his processor that Ratchet was jumping into action.

_:Bumblebee, remain with her and summon Jazz,:_Optimus' voice took over the line.

_:Jazz is here, he's got a hold of her,: _Bumblebee said. :_There is also a human boy, he says he's been taking care of her.:_

_ :… We are activating the ground bridge now. I want that boy to return with you,: _Prime ordered.

_:Yes sir!:_Bumblebee chirruped as the transmission ended.

Moments later, the familiar green swirling vortex of the ground bridge lit up the entire tarmac. Bumblebee watched helplessly as Ratchet slipped through the portal, shoving Jazz aside so he could begin his diagnostic. He muttered incoherently to himself and carefully turned her head to the side to assess both antennae. He carefully set her head back and went about inspecting the gaping hole in her chassis. The medic scowled, running his scanner over the wound. He barely needed to look at her leg to know the problem, so he turned to the other mecha in his presence.

"Bumblebee! Jazz! I need both of you to _carefully _carry her back to base," Ratchet snapped and stood to his pedes. When no bot moved he sent a death glare at them both, _"Now!"_

Bumblebee bent down to offer Win his servo, expecting the boy to climb aboard. When he studied the offered hand with narrowed eyes, 'Bee chirped in support and nudged the boy's knees.

"A-are you sure?" He asked shyly.

"Yes!" Ratchet growled at him, "Hurry it up!"

Win wisely decided not to argue with the medic and quickly climbed into Bumblebee's servo, holding his thumb as the bot stood up. 'Bee lifted him to his shoulder, carefully letting the boy slide off, like he had done so many times with Raf.

To avoid his own injury, he hurried to help Jazz pick up the wounded femme.


	6. Chapter V

_CHAPTER V: A FRACTURED SPARK_

It took Ratchet three entire days to complete the majority of repairs on the wounded femme. He hadn't recharged in seventy-two hours and had had no chance to refuel. His optics were heavy-laden with the need to rest and reset his systems, his movements sluggish and soon to be uncoordinated.

He finally stepped back and reviewed his work, venting quietly. Her communications systems had been fully repaired, her voice modulator rebuilt, her right leg was functional, and all other systems were in working order once again.

The only real nasty problem had been the obvious attempt to rip out her spark. He could easily enough put her chest plates back together, but the damage to her spark chamber was… disturbing.

The mesh of the chamber would grow back with the work of her repair nanites, but her actual spark did not glow as brightly as it should have for a young, healthy, femme. There was also a fracture in her spark's structure, which was incredibly disturbing to the medic. He hadn't seen such a case in a very long time.

A very long time.

"Good morning, Ratchet," Optimus greeted as he walked into medical bay, his face set in a stoic curiosity. He kept his arms at his sides, but his shoulders were visibly taut and he moved stiffly.

Ratchet glanced at the Prime descendent from the corner of his optic, but kept his main focus on the datapad in hand, displaying Splitwing's vitals and injury report, "Optimus."

"How is she today?" The semi asked and moved forward into the room so he could better see the femme on the berth.

The medic grumbled as his vents kicked into high gear and his armor paneling flared outwards with agitation, "Better, _now_. She was very close to off-lining, Optimus. I can't even begin to tell you _just _how close."

Prime's face plates deepened into an unreadable expression.

"Her spark is fractured," Ratchet scowled and tapped the datapad. "I've only ever seen this in bonded Cybertronians, in which case it is a very simple fix."

"And for her?" Optimus asked, looking her up and down. She looked much better than when Bumblebee and Jazz hauled her in earlier in the week. Her armor had been repaired fully, cleaned, but not yet buffed. Her outside looked just fine, but it was the inside he worried about.

Ratchet removed the last sustaining cable from her upgrade port, "The only way to heal the crack would be for her to merge with another. The energy and charge created within that bond will fill and sustain the fracture."

Optimus frowned, "She needs a spark donor. Perhap Arcee-"

"She needs a _mech, _Optimus, Arcee is much too small to create a charge large enough to heal her," Ratchet interrupted before he could finish his thought. "_And _by doing this the charge from the merge will be _from_ that mech, which means that she will have a bond to him. Part of her spark will be part of the mech with whom she merges."

"She will have a sparkmate," Prime stated, understanding what the seasoned field medic was conveying.

Ratchet nodded solemnly. Both mecha knew that choosing a sparkmate was above all a choice, but now Splitwing would be forced to take one. Second, it was their choice of when they wanted a sparkmate, and when to merge. Typically, they would court one another before acceptance came into the picture, but again, that choice was taken from the femme on the berth.

"I will give her three orns before medical intervention must be taken, that should give her enough time to choose from the mecha around base," said the red and white Autobot.

Optimus nodded, "I will not make the others aware of this development, unless it is her choice."

Ratchet agreed.

A couple minutes later, the grey femme on the table began to stir. Her systems recalibrated and rebooted, her optics flickering on at last. She grumbled and moaned as she gingerly sat up, gently rubbing her helm.

She finally took notice to the other mecha in the room and dropped her servo, accessing her last memory file.

_"Help…"_ She had been injured, she saw a silver Cybertronian leaning over her. There was another yellow one behind him, watching her with wide blue optics.

_Autobot Life Signals Detected: Chief Medical Officer Ratchet – Autobot Leader Optimus Prime _

She hitched a breath, Optimus Prime stood in all his regal glory before her. _Prime. _Her leader of all leaders – was within arm's length.

"Greetings, Splitwing, how are you feeling?" He said softly, so as to not startle her too much. He was not entirely sure how to proceed, knowing that she had a damaged spark.

She dipped her head, almost in a shy manner, "I am well, sir." It was most certainly the truth. Splitwing hadn't felt so vibrant and well maintained in a long time. Except the slight ache in her spark, that was bothersome—but that had been there since she had witnessed rather… troublesome… events.

Ratchet came around in front of her, filling her vision, "Ah, good to see you awake, Splitwing. Are all your systems operational?"

She ran a quick full diagnostic of herself, leaving out the part of her hurting heart and her glitch, "Yes, sir."

The ambulance growled, "It is not wise to lie among friends, _especially _to your medic, Splitwing."

She tensed, he couldn't possibly know. She had put up every firewall she could feasibly maintain to protect and hide the twinge within her spark chamber.

Optimus took note of her reaction.

"I know about your spark," the medic softened, setting a gentle servo on her knee. He recognized the shock and fear in the femme, and so would handle it with caution. "Do you know what it wrong?"

Her lower face plates contorted, but neither Ratchet nor Optimus could tell if her upper half had done the same with the visor in the way. She sigh in defeat and uttered a soft, "No."

Ratchet nodded, "I am going to tell you what is ailing you, and then I will tell you how to mend it, understood?"

Prime was nearly thrown for a loop by the medic's behavior, so attuned to his usual gruff demeanor. However, he simply smiled at Ratchet's ability to handle the situation with care.

It was still processor-bending to see his old friend _not _in a twist or using a grouchy tone.

Splitwing bobbed her head.

"Good, but I need you to stay calm and relax, or I _will _sedate you," he threatened with a scowl on his face.

Prime smiled inwardly, _there he was._

"Aye aye, sir," she saluted half-heartedly.

Ratchet felt his tank drop, _oh, Primus, no! Not another joker!_

His optics narrowed suspiciously at the glimpse of her normal self, but he continued anyway. He presented to Splitwing an image of her fractured spark, recording her feedback. The still-shot showed the soft blue glow of her heart-it was beautiful in its own right-but the grasping tendrils reaching for a partner outside the chamber were careful to avoid the jagged navy blue fissure running through the left side of the brilliant orb.

Her optics dimmed and her lip components fell into a frown, "That can't be good."

"No," said Ratchet, putting away the datapad, "it is not. Your spark is fractured."

She gulped, "What does that mean?"

"Let me finish," he reprimanded lightly, "it _means _that we must _fill_ the crack."

She blinked, "I don't get it."

Ratchet growled, "In order to heal your spark, the same energy it is composed of, is required. There is no such source of this energy, other than another's spark."

"I don't think I like where this is going," the femme began to fidget.

Prime stepped up to help the medic, sensing his fatigue and loss of patience, "It means that you must merge with a mech. The charge created from that bond will fill and heal your wound, but you will also have a permanent bond with whomever you choose."

Ratchet sent him a quick relieved glance. Prime nodded once in return, acknowledging the unspoken 'thank you'.

Splitwing seemed to sink back in the berth, her colour scheme blending in well with it. Her shoulders quivered lightly and slumped, her head lowered, "So, I am to take a sparkmate."

Ratchet sighed, once again feeling sympathy for the young femme who seemed much too little, in turns of chronology, for this sort of issue. "Yes, you are."

She cycled air through her vents in a slow exhalation, inspecting her talons. After a moment, she silenced all other functions save her voice box, "How long do I have?"

His brow rose in slight surprise, "Hm?"

She rolled her optics, "I am no fool. Everything I have done in my life has had a deadline, and I know that medics are no exceptions to giving timelines."

He gave her a stink eye for already figuring him out, and then huffed haughtily. "I am giving you three orns. Any time taken after that without aid and the fracture may grow. I do not want to take that chance."

Splitwing nodded glumly. She had no desire to take a partner just yet in her life, but now it appeared as though her hand was dealt. She also did not want to see exactly what kind of aid the medic would need to use should that time pass without… success.

The two mecha gave Splitwing a few minutes to process the information, turning towards each other to discuss a matter in private.

_:Optimus, this kind of problem is not simply caused by physical violence,':_Ratchet said in a soft tone that caught the Prime off guard, referring to Breakdown's attack on her chassis.

_ :What is the major contributing factor, then?: _He questioned. He had seen the footage that Ratchet downloaded from her memory core. Ratchet had only taken from when she contacted them, responding to Optimus' transmission.

It had been disturbing to watch as Breakdown shoved his servo into her chest like it was made of water, but he could not have been prouder to call her an Autobot than when she amputated his arm.

He was certain that was where the damage had come from.

_:Mental trauma, stress, isolation, separation anxiety - which is the typical case in close sparkmates and seekers,: _the medic responded, glancing at the sullen femme.

_:Since she currently has no known mate, you believe it to be one of the other factors,: _Prime deduced.

_:Perhaps, though which one or which combination of the three, I do not know. Isolation is a highly likely cause—being that she _is_ a seeker,: _he said. A frown graced the medic's features, :_There is another matter that bothers me.:_

_ :What is that?:_

_ :The designation 'Splitwing' has not appeared in any reports since the case of missing cadets back on Cybertron,: _Ratchet mused. It bothered him that the only way he could verify her voice print was from centuries ago, before Cybertron was fully engulfed in war.

_:Would it be safe to ask her?: _Prime inquired. Hopefully, should she be willing, he would like to know of her travels and where she came from. Her trinemate could only provide so much information.

He also knew Railhead would be chomping at the bit to see her commander.

The ambulance frowned, :I_ suppose, but keep it short and simple. I do not want to cause her further anxiety. She needs to be kept calm and relaxed with that fracture. There's no telling how long she has had it.:_

Prime nodded in agreement and understanding before moving forward to a closer proximity with the femme.

She barely acknowledged the movement, too immersed in her own thoughts.

"Splitwing?"

Splitwing raised her pointed helm to look at her leader.

"… It has come to our attention that you have not written or appeared in any reports since a glitch repair request was filed from the Autobot Communications academy."

She hummed with a defeated frown on her face, "I figured as such. He wouldn't allow us to send our reports to anyone but himself."

Optimus' head cocked to the side and Ratchet turned from his work he had previously gone to, "Who do you speak of?"

She did not expect them to know, but she asked anyway, "You don't know?"

"No," Prime said, his optics narrowing.

"The very same mech who stole me away from the academy was none other than your second-in-command," she vented slowly. Her wings trembled in what Ratchet thought was fright. She gripped herself in a tight hug, as if to hold herself together.

_Definitely not separation anxiety, _Ratchet thought darkly. Something – _someone _– had truly unnerved this femme.

Ratchet stepped up to the plate, "Who, Splitwing? Jazz has not been SIC for very long."

Prime knew it hadn't been Jazz, the silver saboteur was too soft-hearted to _steal _an Autobot away. He also personally did not believe him capable of such a thing. Neither was Prowl, who was also one of his seconds'.

Optimus had had several seconds since the beginning of the war.

"I was ordered by Ultra Magnus to leave the academy with him and several others. He told us that these orders came from High Command, from _you,_ Optimus," she said quietly. Even though she was visibly troubled by her past, she slowly slid off the berth to come face-to-chest with the Autobot leader and all but pleaded, "_Please _tell me you did not issue Order Vynyan?"

Optimus looked taken aback, quickly searching through his memory core. He did no such thing and he told her so, "I gave no such order."

Splitwing slumped down, nearly falling to the floor and whispered, "Thank Primus."

Ratchet rushed to do a quick scan of her body and found that none of her motor functions had failed. She had honestly been so relieved she could not hold herself up. _Had she been that frightened Optimus would have said yes?_

"Splitwing, what did Ultra Magnus have you do?" Ratchet asked, remaining kneeling next to her frame.

Her visor went dark as she closed her optics, "Everything."

The two mecha gave her the time she would need to answer, but she didn't take long to compose a explanation.

"I hoped… with all my spark, that one day I would be able to escape and bring him to justice. I never had the chance," she vented softly. She moved her hand to the side of her head to activate a port. A panel near her left hip slid open silently and she activated her optics to look sadly into Optimus' face, "I can't tell you what has transpired since that day, but I can show you."

With one moment of hesitation, Prime nodded. Ratchet's eyes narrowed in realization of what Splitwing wanted to do, "Are you certain, Optimus?"

He nodded in resolution, "Yes, old friend. I need to know and she wishes to show me."

"The information I have collected is too valuable for me to transfer it into a wireless package. I've kept it safe in its raw un-tampered hard copy. He could never know I had it," she said.

Now Optimus _had _to know. Ratchet himself was rather curious as to what she was referring to, so without further hesitation he carefully attached a data transfer cable to her exposed port and plugged her in to Optimus.

The data transfer was instantaneous. Prime froze in his place, digits twitching on a minuscule scale.

Optimus was seeing it all. He saw the very last day Splitwing spent at the academy, he saw Ultra Magnus at her quarters. He heard him speak. Splitwing followed to the hangar. She boarded a ship. He watched the academy disappear.

He watched her train. He watched her kill. He watched her steal. He heard his orders. He heard his accusations. His lies. His _treason. _

The energon pile grew. She was on Decepticon warships. She spied. She scouted. She destroyed. She cleaned. She scavenged. She stole.

He ordered. He shouted. He screamed. He swung. He smacked. He _blamed_. He attacked.

He attacked her.

He attacked Railhead.

He attacked Snowblitz.

He assaulted her.

He assaulted Railhead.

He assaulted Snowblitz.

He could feel it. Feel her. He could feel her fear. Her anger. Her guilt. Her rage. Her fatigue.

She feared Ultra Magnus. She hated Ultra Magnus.

He had been toying with her mind for so many centuries that Splitwing was literally breaking on the inside.

The data upload finished after eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Ratchet counted. He watched with scrutiny as Optimus keeled over, his intakes working in overdrive from the shock of the expansive data packet he just received.

Splitwing had passed out five minutes and nine seconds ago with a whine from her engine and a splutter of static from her voice box.

Optimus recovered quickly, disconnecting the cable and standing back up. He blew the build up of heat from his core before cycling air through his vents normally.

"Well?" Ratchet demanded. On the floor, Splitwing on-lined again and sat up quickly, then stood and stepped back from Optimus and Ratchet. Her wings had sunk down low and her armor was flattened uncomfortably.

"Ultra Magnus…" he drawled slowly, looking at Splitwing for verification. When she gave him a small nod, he continued, "… has defected from both factions."

Ratchet openly gaped, "_What?_"

"He has also been stealing from refugee camps, Autobot bases, neutrals and the Decepticons since the war began. He has amassed quite a…stock pile of supplies for himself," Optimus muttered.

"I don't believe it," Ratchet scoffed, but Optimus converted and transferred a few files to the medic that Splitwing had just shared with him. His jaw dropped, "I don't _believe it!_"

Optimus turned to the femme, "Do Snowblitz and Railhead have similar data packages?"

She nodded somberly, "We _all _do – did. Every one of us collected information and recorded it, but as far as I know only the three of us remain."

"I must compare and verify it with the others, but thank you for sharing this with me," Optimus said and carefully laid a hand on the troubled femme's shoulder, "know that you are safe now, and he can no longer give you orders."

She raised her head to smile shyly at the giant mech, "Thank you, for _everything._" She turned to Ratchet, aiming the latter bit at him. He looked slightly stunned that she was thanking him, but he nodded in acknowledgment all the same.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Outside the Med-Bay_

Railhead knew she was there. As soon as the CMO had fixed her systems, Railhead had seen her life signal pop back up onto her scanners. The copper flyer had never been so relieved and elated at the same time. This had been the longest she had ever spent separated from her commander and closest friend.

She paced anxiously outside the med-bay, unable to keep still. She vented nervously, huffing her annoyance while glaring lightly at the closed doors._ Why hadn't he finished yet?! _

It was at that moment that the doors slid open and Optimus Prime stepped out of the med-bay. He nodded respectfully to Railhead, "I expect you will hear this again from Ratchet, but you must take care with Splitwing. If she wishes, she will explain to you her situation."

Railhead nodded, "Thank you, Optimus."

He turned and headed off to Primus knows where, Railhead didn't care. She all but ran into the med-bay, only to be halted by the CMO himself.

Ratchet looked like scrap. He could barely keep his optics online, but he crossed his arms and fixed a stern glare at Railhead. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it, "Keep your voice down and be sure that she gets more recharge. I have given her energon so her tanks are satisfied. If I hear that you've kept her up for longer than a joor I will put you on the top of my medical examinations list."

She balked slightly at his threat, but nodded all the same, "Thanks, Ratchet."

He merely grumbled and shuffled off to recharge himself.

Railhead spotted her CO sitting on the edge of a berth, staring at the floor. She couldn't contain her happiness any longer.

"Splitwing!" She cried and raced to the freshly healed femme.

Splitwing's head snapped up at the sound of her designation and grinned, "Railhead, it's good to see you."

The stockier femme smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around the grey seeker, "Oh, how I've missed your casual ways."

Splitwing returned the embrace, and they proceeded to tell each other about their travels. Splitwing hesitated to mention her fractured spark, but knew that she couldn't keep something so major from one of her closest friends.

"You have to _what?_ That's absurd!" Railhead all but cried and visibly recoiled from the idea.

The dark, steel grey seeker nodded, "I must choose a mate within three orns."

Railhead frowned deeply, but then sighed dejectedly, "Well, if it'll keep you on-line and well, I'm for it. I'll even help you choose!"

Splitwing snorted, "I do not share the same interests in mates as you do. I prefer somebot strong, but not the size of a giant. He's going to have to be smart, too."

Railhead barked a laugh, "That's right! You wouldn't want him to ask stupid questions—or throw his weight around." She frowned again, "Truthfully, though, I'm not entirely sure what your interests are. We've never… really _had _the… luxury to think about _that _kind of future."

Splitwing vented softly and stood from her berth to embrace her friend, "Well, now we do. Mine may be a bit forced and rushed, but we can finally relax. Magnus is out there, and he will come for us, but now we have greater allies. We can defeat him, Railhead, and then we can live in peace."

Railhead snorted, "I'll never live in peace, not after what he did to me, to Snow, to _you._ I hope I can find somebot, in the _distant _future, but I… I don't think I could handle it so soon."

Nodding gently, Splitwing pulled back, "And that's fine, Railhead. I won't force you, and if any mech tries, just send him my way."

The copper coloured femme smiled and pounded Splitwing's shoulder gently, "I will."

They shared a moment of silence before Railhead grinned, "You're gonna love the bot who's been sparring with me."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Not too far from Earth_

"Hm, aren't you ever the resistant type," he spat.

She growled and thrashed weakly against her restraints. She wanted to claw his optics out, right after she tore his spark to pieces and shoved it down his throat.

The black Cybertronian chuckled darkly and stood, leaving her on the floor to wallow in her spilt energon. "I do hope that you will come to terms with your new… _occupation_… quickly, Snowblitz. I'd hate to have to force you to comply."

She spat energon in Lockdown's face, "I will _never _comply. _Never!_" Her legs ached where he had ripped off her armor, and her cables throbbed where he had tweaked them the wrong way. The most bothersome injury was the jagged hole in her right wing, where his ship's tow cable had punctured it. She glared darkly at the mech before her and hissed, "I do not answer to you, and I never will. Tell Megatron to go back to the Pit and off-line."

He leered, "We shall see."


	7. Chapter VI

_CHAPTER VI: WELCOME TO THE OUTPOST_

Win had never felt so out of place. After having come to the Autobot base, Splitwing had been ushered off to medical before he could give her absence a second thought. Bumblebee set him down next to a group of kids and stood quietly behind them, keeping watch over them even in the safety of the base. A small, brown haired boy raced to the big bot's feet and was quickly swept into Bumblebee's servos. He buzzed and clicked in greeting and the boy responded in a happy tone.

A small Japanese girl was on his right, sending a scrutinizing glare his way. He tried to pass it off as curiosity, but her sharp, unblinking stare unnerved him. She pursed her lips before pulling out her phone to snap a quick picture of him and turned to a huge, green bot that had just walked into the room. Win couldn't have missed his entrance, his lumbering steps having shaken the floor.

Win sent her a bewildered look, beyond perturbed by her behaviour. He was slightly surprised that no one had come over to address him, but he was content to just stare at the giant robots before him.

They moved with a grace he would not have fathomed for such large creatures. They manoeuvred around the humans effortlessly, lifting and twisting their pedes like it was second nature; which it probably was after spending so much time around them.

The big, green bot turned to Bumblebee and spoke to him in perfect English, asking about what happened. Win blinked, he couldn't get over how an alien species knew their language like it was their own. Splitwing had definitely caught him off guard the first time they met.

It was then that Win noticed the sudden silence in the room and all eyes had become trained on him. Another bot had entered the room, though this one was the biggest of them all. His quiet steps belied his enormous size and he came over to Win. He kneeled down and set a large, armoured hand on his own knee, "You are the human responsible for Splitwing's care?"

He wanted to gulp nervously, but he checked the action. If he was on Splitwing's side, he had nothing to worry about. _Right?_ His nerves still on edge, he nodded, "I am. My name is Win."

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. We are in your debt for the care and repair of Splitwing and I give you my thanks, Win," he said.

Win flushed shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, "I just did what I thought was right."

Optimus nodded and smiled slightly, "My thanks all the same, Win." He glanced up to the bots behind him, "This is Bulkhead, Bumblebee and their charges, Miko and Rafael."

Win waved, "Howdy." He instantly saw why Bulkhead was called _Bulkhead, _the guy was just _colossal_. Win would normally have been terrified and incredibly intimidated, but the bot in front of him-_Optimus Prime,_ he reminded himself- was just that much bigger.

They waved back.

"Win," Win turned his attention back to Optimus. "Would you mind answering some questions?"

He shook his head, "Not at all." He glanced around the hangar, "Not like I've got somewhere to be..."

"Where did you meet Splitwing?" Optimus asked. Win looked around the big robot and saw that Bumblebee and Bulkhead were paying rapt attention, the kids now in their servos. There were a couple of other soldiers milling about who acted nonchalantly, but Win knew they would be listening too.

"She crashed in a field I had been working in. She did not look good, energon was coming outta' her like water. She fell over and saw me," he shook his head with a frown, "then grabbed me and took off. Once we both calmed down she started… talking to me—but it wasn't _talking. _She couldn't speak, just flashed the words across her visor and showed me all her injured parts."

"What compelled you to help her?"

"Like I said, I couldn't _not _help her. She looked horrible and I wasn't entirely certain she wouldn't squish me if I didn't. So, I offered my help, which she accepted," he explained further.

"How long have you been together?"

Miko snickered from Bulkhead's palm at Optimus' words. The big green wrecking ball hushed her quickly.

Win shot the girl a look of displeasure while raising an eyebrow, but answered the Cybertronian, "About two months."

Optimus' face darkened considerably, but stood up and away from Win so he wouldn't see. Splitwing had been injured and on earth for two months—and they had not been able to detect her.

"Thank you, Win."

"You're welcome…" he frowned, "uh, what's going to happen to me, now?"

Optimus seemed to think for a moment, "I will have to speak with our human allies to determine your future, but as for now I consider you a friend and welcome in this base."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Elsewhere in the Autobot Base_

Splitwing hadn't recharged soundly in so many vorns that finally laying in peace did nothing for her systems. She couldn't settle down. Her processor refused to _not _think of all the threats still out there that were against her and her trine—most troubling was the news of Snowblitz's capture.

If she had been there, maybe she could have done something. Maybe taken her place. Maybe fought harder. Splitwing scowled, she would have fought just as hard as Railhead had, but she couldn't dwell on the past. It wouldn't do her any good.

Yet, she couldn't help fretting over Snowblitz's well-being. She was obviously in danger.

After venting a sigh and rubbing absently at her chest plates, Splitwing sat up and slid quietly off the berth. She closed her optics and ghosted her fingers over her newly repaired sensory radio-wave scanners protruding from overtop her audio receptors. They were very tender to the touch, as she flinched and pulled her hand away quickly. The repair work hadn't fully integrated with her body.

Glancing around the med-bay, she determined that Ratchet had retired for the night. He was nowhere near, if her short range scanners had anything to say about it. She had always trusted her senses, but she had just onlined again from taking such heavy damage, and everything was still highly sensitive.

She rolled her shoulders gingerly and strode slowly and silently out of the med-bay, the repairs not quite set in her leg. There was the familiar, dull aching in her chest plates, which she now knew was from her fractured spark. Once again, she rubbed absent-mindedly at the seam in her chassis.

A grimace marred her features as her spark throbbed painfully while she turned a corner, nearly ploughing into a silver mech.

"Whoa, careful there, pretty girl!"

She froze and cocked her head to the side, _that voice… _She looked up, he did look familiar. The flashing visor, the silver armor, the pointed helm—_familiar._

As she stared silently at him, he stared back. He cocked his head, mirroring her, an idle smirk on his face.

It was _him. _The mech who she had grabbed before falling into stasis lock again. He held no special place in her spark, but it was nice to see a face she knew, however vaguely.

"Take a still, it'll last longer," he grinned.

She rolled her optics, coming out of her stupor, "Perhaps, but I only take stills worth keeping."

He laughed, "_Oh, _that was a good one, name's Jazz."

Splitwing smiled, "Splitwing."

"What are y'doin' outta' the med-bay? I thought ya were on berth rest, medic's orders," he asked, looking down the hall to see if Ratchet would come howling around the bend.

"What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," she shrugged and followed his gaze, just to be certain that the medic hadn't noticed her absence.

He snickered softly, "Yer gonna be fun ta have around, aren't ya?"

She swivelled back around on her heel while subconsciously placing a servo on her hip, "Depends."

"On what?"

"What there is to do around here, my sisters and I were never idle for long," she said.

He grinned devilishly, "Ah'm sure we'll think a' somethin'."

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, "What's on your processor?"

Jazz's visor darkened playfully, "Ah guess you'll just have ta see."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Win was tired.

After meeting Optimus Prime, he had been whisked away by some official—an Agent William Fowler, he thought—to be questioned and sworn to secrecy. He had been cooped up in one little room all night and he had fallen asleep on the chair, his head on the table.

He'd woken up only a few minutes ago with a wicked headache and a rumbling stomach. Another soldier had come to fetch him for a meal and another briefing regarding the existence of the Autobots, or something to that letter—he hadn't paid too much attention after the man had mentioned food.

They finally arrived at a large hangar, where Win was handed off to another pair of soldiers and led towards an idle Peterbilt semi. He briefly wondered why they were taking him to a _semi, _but then figured it must be one of the Autobots. If the paint scheme was anything to go by, it was the leader.

Sure enough, once the trio stopped next to the truck, it shifted. The hood popped up and the windshield split, metal panels cracked and moved as the giant Cybertronian mech stood up.

"Awe, man. That's cool, I only saw Splitwing do that once," he breathed.

The man to his right chuckled, "Never got used to it."

Optimus turned and kneeled to address Win, "Good morning, Win. I trust that you were taken care of?"

His stomach growled menacingly, "Sort of."

Optimus smiled, "I wished to have a short conversation with you before you started your day, a moment, Burns, Carter?"

The two soldiers nodded politely and backed away to give Prime and Win their space.

Win watched them go over to another group of men, easily integrating themselves into the conversation, "What can I do for you, Optimus?"

"It is not so much what you can do, so much as what I can do. Because of Splitwing's frame and chosen alternate mode, it is not practical for her to become your guardian," he started.

Win held up a hand, "Hang on, big guy, why do I need a guardian? I've been fine for the two months I've been with Splitwing, no trouble from anyone."

"Be that as it may," Optimus paid no mind to his interruption, he was used to them, "I cannot account for the actions of a Decepticon and I would feel much better knowing that you are protected by one of us. You may not have intended to involve yourself in our war, but I will not take any chances."

Win frowned, "What's going to happen to Splitwing?"

Optimus was pleased that the boy cared for one not of his species, but did not show it outwardly. "She will be fine. She'll remain here until we can rehabilitate her to full health and then she will become a part of my team."

The human nodded and lowered his gaze, "What about me?"

"If you have no further objections, I will assign you a guardian. I want to be certain that you have not become a target of the Decepticons," Optimus said and glanced at the hangar doors.

Win followed his gaze, but saw nothing. "I suppose so, if you think me or my family would be at risk, I can live with having another friend around."

Optimus smiled again, "Until further notice, I'm assigning Smokescreen as your guardian. He'll be taking you home as soon as the others are through with your business. It was an honor meeting you, Win."

Win gave the Autobot leader a crooked smile, "The honor was all mine, Optimus."

The Prime nodded his head and gestured to the soldiers that he was done. They came over quickly, whisking the young human away. Optimus watched them go, then frowned as Ratchet entered the hangar, an energon cube in hand.

The red and white bot clomped over to the Prime, handing over the cube. It was medical grade, judging by the odd scent and dark swirls of nutrient laden energon within.

"I know you haven't refueled yet, I am no fool, Optimus," Ratchet hummed in his usual cranky fashion.

Optimus cocked a half-smile, "Indeed, old friend." He popped the seal on the sustenance and took a long dreg.

Ratchet's frown deepened, "Are you sure it was wise to send Smokescreen with the human?"

Optimus hummed thoughtfully, "He's still young, and I believe Win can do him some good. He's been awfully restless around base and could use a… lesson in mannerisms."

The seasoned medic snorted, "He needs an entire vorn of teaching."

The semi cracked a small smile, "Are you volunteering?"

"Primus, no!" Ratchet snarled as his armor plating flared angrily. "I'm too old to be teaching that slag to the younglings."

"Who's a youngling?" Smokescreen chirped as he strolled cheerily into the hangar. "We're all in our adult frames, as far as I know."

Ratchet grumbled incoherently. Optimus turned to address the young recruit, "Smokescreen, I am assigning Win as your charge. He can teach you more of Earth's customs as you guard him, and keep an eye out for further Decepticon activity. I do not know if he is at risk as of the moment."

The grey mech nodded eagerly, though his excitement was subdued only slightly by his new mission given by Prime and his desire to please his leader.

"You will be leaving promptly," Optimus said and rotated to face Ratchet. "Smokescreen has no outstanding medical conditions?"

"No, he's fine. I would like to do a scan of his energon levels before his leave, but he should be in perfect health," the red and white medic shrugged gruffly.

Smokescreen raised an eyebrow, _I'm right here! _He strongly disliked the feeling of being ignored, shoved to the side as if a piece of scrap. He shrugged inwardly, that was simply the way he was treated—for now. He vowed to one day be as respectable as both the Prime and the medic.

He felt an invasive tingling flow down his body, knowing that Ratchet had decided to do his scan _right_ then. Smokescreen shook himself to be rid of the clinging tingles and looked to Ratchet expectantly.

He hummed, "Yes, you are indeed fine. Do not forget to refuel regularly."

Smokescreen nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I know that, when do I leave?"

Optimus glanced to the hangar doors with a knowing look, "Shortly."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"Where are we?" Splitwing asked Jazz. Glancing around, the only thing to see was more grey corridors. She ignored the slight twitch in her newly repaired leg, knowing the welds were settling in place.

Jazz grinned brightly, "Well, being that the humans 're all awake, Ah figured you'd like ta see Win before he heads out."

She frowned, "He's leaving?"

"He's Canadian, not American. He's also not a soldier, he's a civilian. He don't take orders from us or NEST operatives, and we can't boss 'im around wither. Optimus announced earlier over the com lines that he's being sent home with Smokescreen, who will be his guardian," said Jazz.

Splitwing's visor darkened shortly, but quickly reverted back to its normal electric blue when Jazz turned around. If anyone would be guarding the boy, it should be her. She was the one who brought him into their war, she was the one who put him at risk.

"Who determined this?" She asked casually, forcing herself to keep a relaxed appearance.

Jazz's eyes narrowed, seeing the slight twitch in her talons, "Optimus. He decided that Smokescreen could use tutorage in human culture, _and _Ah suspect that he wants aerial backup here."

Splitwing's panels settled and she vented quietly, seeing the logic in Prime's decision, "I suppose he would."

Jazz stepped up to her and placed a friendly servo on her shoulder, "Spits, Ah know ya feel indebted to the guy, but Smokescreen _needs _this. He's been drivin' us all nuts around here. There's no one sayin' ya can't visit, but just let things calm down and get settled inta base, cool?"

The steel grey femme shuttered her optics for a moment, but then nodded, "Thank you, Jazz, for your companionship and kind words."

He grinned cheekily, "No need ta be so formal! We're friends, and now you're officially part of our team."

She processed his sentence, then quirked a smirk, "No guarantees."

He smirked back, "Ah'll have ya talkin' like one a' the Wreckers in a klik—faster than 'ol Roadbuster could talk yer audio receptors into malfunction!"

She smiled, "Roadbuster, I've heard of him. Seen him once, on Forayy, grappling with Gavel."

Jazz quirked an eyebrow, "He win?"

"Can't say, I was on strict orders to receive a data-package from an unknown Autobot sympathizer. I couldn't stay to see how it turned out," she explained, clearly remembering the mission. She remembered all of her missions, however vague some may have been.

Jazz looked to the floor mumbling, "Forayy, Autobot sympathizer, Gavel, I know 'bout that. Blaster said he kept getting tips from an unknown source."

Splitwing drew a deep intake of air through her vents, "Yes, that was not the sympathizer, though."

"Then who?" He asked suspiciously.

Splitwing questioned her next words and thought them over carefully, but knew that Prime was already aware of her actions. He would have received them in the data transfer, so telling Jazz would cause no ruckus or harm. "I sent many databursts to a communications officer within your ranks. I tried to send them all to one, so others wouldn't become confused and keep possible treason suspicion off them."

Jazz spluttered for a moment, "So, you… sent data… Blaster…? Suspicion of treason…?" He then bent over, bursting into hearty laughter and falling backwards to lean heavily on the wall.

She cocked her head to the side, "What's so amusing? Please tell me the CO wasn't terminated."

He sobered quickly, though he chuckled a few times, "Terminated? No, no one would dare suggest killing Blaster. Ah just thought it hilarious that ya would've had the 'blame' pinned on Blaster than anybot else. He is so easily riled up, if he knew he-" he laughed again.

Splitwing cracked a small smile and chuckled quietly, "Yes, well, like I said; I didn't want to cause any more trouble than I figured I already was."

Jazz snickered, "You didn't cause much. Ya did peeve off Blaster pretty good, got him confused and angry because he couldn't isolate yer life signal nor could he send a message back—most times."

She shuttered her optics, "Yes, I did receive a few messages from him, though I had to keep them secret."

Jazz didn't question her motives and he would respect her space, for now. _Why keep them secret? From whom? _She was new to base, and just freshly repaired. Should he truly need the answer, he would find it.

He then snickered again, _Blaster was gonna have a fit when he arrived! _


	8. Chapter VII

_CHAPTER VII: GLITCHES ALL AROUND_

Splitwing followed Jazz through the gargantuan entrance into the hangar, glancing over his shoulders to look for anything familiar. She spotted Optimus and Ratchet talking to a medium sized, grey mech whose doorwings fluttered anxiously, his eyes bright and keen. There was a blue print of the number 38 on his doorwings, his armor striped in blue and red.

Splitwing's visor darkened slightly, feeling the immaturity emanating from the Cybertronian, "Smokescreen, I presume?"

Jazz nodded and smiled, "Yeah, guy's a good kid, just excitable. He's perfectly capable of takin' care of Win fer ya."

She frowned, "Excitable, he looks like a sparkling begging for his daily fueling." Splitwing smiled inwardly at the thought, the memory of a certain baby mech flitting through her processor.

"That's why Optimus wants him on this mission, he needs experience," Jazz said as they walked forward.

She snorted, but said nothing. She didn't want to be too quick to judge the young warrior, having not spent any time around him. She also figured he was older than her, being that she was technically still a cadet in the Autobots' public records. She was just sore that he was watching Win instead of her.

"Jazz, Splitwing, it is good to see you both," Optimus greeted.

Ratchet whirled around quicker than Splitwing could blink, glaring viciously in her direction, "Did I say you were cleared from the med-bay?"

Her wings hitched upwards in surprise, not expecting the harsh greeting from the medic. She opened her mouth to reply, but Jazz beat her to it.

"Give 'er a break, doc bot. She wanted to see off the boy," he waved off Ratchet's usual gruff demeanor, glancing at Smokescreen.

The red and white bot growled for a moment, then caved, "I'll let it go this once, but I want you in the med-bay as soon as this is over!"

She bowed her head, "Of course."

Ratchet backed off while giving her an odd look, but said nothing. She returned the gaze and cocked her head to the side, a behavior she knew would have elicited a nasty response from Ultra Magnus. He would have sent her on a suicide mission. But now she was free, his secret was out. She could act and say as she wished, within reason.

"Splitwing, Win is over with the humans," Optimus interjected and gestured to the other end of the hangar where a large door was opened to the outside.

Standing casually next to a group of soldiers was indeed Win, hands in his pockets and brown hair ruffed up. He nodded a couple times in response to the men around him and took a small, white envelope that was handed to him.

Splitwing split away from Optimus, Ratchet and Jazz and walked silently up behind Win. A couple soldiers noticed her approach and gestured to Win to turn around.

He did so, a grin spreading across his face, "Splitwing! You're up!"

She gave him a genuine smile and knelt down, offering her hand for him to step into. While she may not have been as big as Optimus or Bulkhead, her hands were still large enough to comfortably seat the young man. "As are you," she responded.

He clambered into her servo and she stood up, turning to step outside. She could see that everyone was watching them and she wanted a bit of privacy before Win left.

She stopped a little ways away from the entrance to the hangar, looking down at Win.  
He was fidgeting with his hands and biting his lip, but then he stopped suddenly and inspected her thumb closely, "I'm really glad you're okay."

Her wings dropped contentedly at his words, her visor brightening, "And I have you to thank for it."

He laughed softly, "Don't be generous, all I managed to do was plug some lines and pound a few dents outta you."

"Which saved my spark from off-lining, it would have starved of the energon loss. Had you not sealed those lines, I would not be thanking you. I give credit where it is due, and I am in your debt," she said firmly. She didn't want him to believe that he only 'plugged some lines', he saved her life.

He slowly raised his head, giving her a small smile, "Just don't go running into battle right away, okay? I'd like to think we're friends, so stay safe."

She returned a soft smile, "You as well. Why don't you take the groundbridge? You could be home in seconds."

He frowned, "Last time I didn't really like the feeling it gave me, and Smokescreen said something about 'one-on-one' mech time."

Splitwing snorted, "Watch out for him. He worries me."

Win grinned, "I'll be fine. He seems like a nice guy, just... young."

She nodded, "That he is. I have input my personal communication frequency code into your cell phone in the case you need something or somebot to talk to. I am here for you, Win."

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the contacts, "And so you did. Thanks, Splitwing. I'll call if I have to!"

She nodded in the affirmative, a small smile on her lip plates as she strode casually back to the hangar.

Smokescreen and Optimus were waiting for them, the former with an excited look on his face. Splitwing was almost hesitant to hand Win over, but set him on the ground carefully, regardless of her worries. They both would be fine.

She had to believe it.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

The dark grey femme frowned internally as Smokescreen's bright tail lights disappeared in a cloud of dust, taking her human savior with him. She respected Win immensely for what he did for her, despite their differences in species.

Her thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the approach of a large Cybertronian, judging by the resounding shockwaves she picked up on her wings from the disturbance in the air.

"Splitwing, may I have a moment before you return to the med-bay?"

The steely grey femme looked to Optimus, _a large Cybertronian indeed_, "Of course, what may I do to help you?"

The regal Cybertronian smiled inwardly at her, for a bot so used to tyrannical rule, she was certainly not shy. "How far were you into your training in the academy?"

She frowned, "I would have graduated quickly, had my instructor not been so ill-minded towards a glitch in my processor."

Optimus raised a brow, "Glitch?"

She waved off his concern, "It was... dampened a long time ago. I haven't had an incident in vorns."

"What is your glitch?"

"It's a part of my battle computer. Should I feel threatened or angered to the point of feeling helpless or enraged, something snaps and my processor overloads into a temporary stasis. In my bouts of... epilepsy... I have been known to become... _savage_ to protect those around me," she explained. "However, as I said, I've had it under control for a very long time."

The Prime hummed thoughtfully, "I think it wise to have Ratchet determine if he may fully repair it."

Splitwing nodded, "I agree. I do not like to lose control of myself."

Optimus smiled softly, "In any case, I name you as the Autobots' official Communications Officer. I saw what you can do during the data transfer and I can think of no bot else fit for the job."

Her wings snapped up in surprise and her visor went nearly white with shock, "Ar-are you certain?"

He laid a servo on her shoulder, "I am very certain. Once you are cleared by Ratchet, I shall show you your new office."

Splitwing grinned, "I am truly honoured. I won't let you down."

He returned the sentiment, though much more reserved, "I know you won't. Now, if you would excuse me, I have matters to attend to."

"Of course, Prime, I must return to the med-bay anyhow," she bowed her helm in respect and the two bots went their own ways.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Railhead narrowed her optics and watched as her targeting system lined up the shot. She shifted her arm to the right to compensate for a slight pull in her weapon and 'pulled' the trigger. The arm cannon fired instantaneously and not a second later the target within her sights was obliterated by the explosive energon round.

She frowned, _still off! _The target had been eliminated, but the recoil in her arm hadn't felt right. Railhead pulled her arm back and shifted the armor beneath her elbow to inspect the inner workings of her cannon. All the pieces seemed in order, but she was also no medic. Of course, Railhead knew her own weapons systems, but some malfunctions were beyond her.

"Your aim was off."

The copper coloured femme would have jumped in surprise, had she not known that Ironhide had been intensely watching her practice. She merely grunted, not bothering to look at the mech, "I am aware. Blasted thing has a pull, but despite my accommodations _and _regular systems diagnostics the damn thing won't fire properly." She smacked her arm in frustration then shoved her face back into the guts of her arm, grumbling unhappily.

The gruff, black mech strode forward, "'s probably the coolant system or the main energon line, lemme look."

He made to grab her arm. She hesitated slightly, but then allowed him to have a look. She was used to having to care completely for herself, not having the help that normally came with being a soldier. Her medic had been herself, just as Splitwing would have triaged her own damages and as Snowblitz her own. Only under the direst of circumstances did they care for one another.

It wasn't because they couldn't or because they didn't want to, it was simply a matter of safety. Ultra Magnus had been adamant in teaching them self-care lest they be felled in battle with no backup. It was smart, but he had also threatened to offline little Sandflare should they fail to learn it themselves. He had said if they couldn't survive, then the little sparkling didn't deserve to either.

Ultra Magnus hadn't been a _physical _ruler. Instead he had attacked them in every psychological sense he could discover.

But Railhead was harder to best than that. She could not—_would_ not—lose herself in mind games.

Ironhide twisted her wrist and grumbled incoherently before nodding to himself, "Yes, the main energon line's been pinched. Better get that fixed."

Her optics narrowed on his black and silver face, but when he made no move to say anything else—simply letting her arm go—she nodded. "I will."

The black mech grunted and turned to leave. Railhead watched him go, still slightly disappointed Ironhide didn't bother to even try and find a memory file of her. They had been so _close _after Delta Vegma, yet once she was transferred it was as if she hadn't existed to him. At least, _she _had felt close to him, almost like he had been the brother she'd never had.

The loss of that sibling bond had nearly ripped her apart, but she was a strong femme. The pain was nothing compared to a break within a Sparkbond, she knew that from what she'd been taught, but it had still hurt.

It felt like she had lost a brother that day.

Railhead quickly cleared out of the shooting range when an entourage of other Autobots entered, followed by a squad of humans. She recognized a couple faces among them all, but didn't care to think of their names. Quickly ducking out of the range, she ignored Sideswipe's greeting and quietly pondered about the past.

What if she hadn't obeyed his order to leave?

What if she had stayed with the Wreckers?

What if she had rejected his training?

What if she had left?

What if she had rebelled against him?

"_Railhead?"_

What if she had destroyed his purpose?

What if she had taken away _his_ _drive_?

"_Railhead!" _

What if she had tried to escape?

What if she had _killed _him?

"Railhead!" A sudden snarl and a smack upside her helm drew her violently from her thoughts and she jumped backwards. Railhead's short wings were taut with tension and her entire frame was wrought with barely contained self-hatred and hysteria.

The coppery femme shook herself viciously and rebooted her optics several times, _was that Splitwing? _

"Rail, talk to me! Pull out of this!"

Then the slender, grey frame of her leader dissipated into a hulking rage-mass of Ultra Magnus. He was towered over her as she fell to her knees, begging for forgiveness and a second chance.

He roared at her weakness.

"_How pathetic!"_

She was almost kissing the ground, praying to Primus he wouldn't strike her or little Sandflare, who had taken refuge underneath her. Ultra Magnus' blue armor dominated her vision, his anger palpable and his traitorous blue optics glowerd down at her.

"Railhead! Put up your firewalls! _Slag it!_"

And then, Ultra Magnus struck.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing had been on her way back to the med-bay when she passed by the shooting range, having decided to take the long way back to stretch her legs. Her wings were standing proudly with her new purpose and place within the Autobot ranks, her visor flashing brightly with happiness and the first bit of contentedness she'd felt since she had her youngling frame.

Ironhide passed her in the hall, just coming out of the range. He dipped his head respectfully, but kept his distance from her. She paid no mind to his actions, distracted by the heavy pedefalls of another.

She watched as Railhead stomped out of the shooting range, a glazed look on her face and her shorter wings sagging heavily. Her frame shook slightly and her fingers twitched, and Splitwing instantly recognized what was happening.

The steely femme sprinted after Railhead, disregarding the warnings flashing across her HUD from her leg. As she approached, she heard the copper flyer mumbling quietly, incoherently to the others.

Splitwing smacked Railhead sharply on the helm, hoping that she wasn't too far gone into the memory file that had snuck around her firewalls.

"Railhead!" She hissed, hoping not to draw attention to them. If another bot saw Railhead's current condition they would never be trusted to leave the base, let alone join their ranks permanently.

The other femme twitched and convulsed slightly and Splitwing heard Sandflare's designation slip from Railhead's mouth. Splitwing growled, any memory file pertaining to the little sparkling was never good.

With a brutal shove, Splitwing trapped Railhead against the wall, glancing around to be certain they were alone, "Railhead! Listen to me, you are _safe! _He. Is. _Not._ Here!"

When the bulky femme didn't reply, Splitwing opened a personal com link between them and all but screamed, :_Slag it to the Pit! Wake UP!:_

Added to a thump on the chassis, Splitwing's words drew Railhead's consciousness back with a sudden snap.

"S-Splitwing?" She spluttered and vented heavily. She clutched Splitwing's wrists, almost as if they were her lifeline. The grey femme allowed it, if only to comfort her sister. She had _thought _that Railhead would have had Ratchet repair the glitch already, but apparently she had _not._

"You _must _have Ratchet repair this glitch, this _cannot _go any further. Now that we have help and we are safe-" Splitwing started, but Railhead shoved her backwards suddenly.

"No! I will not let somebot in my head!" She roared and thrashed wildly against Splitwing.

The leading seeker growled and pushed back, barely containing the strong femme. A sudden ping on her proximity sensors alerted her to an incoming Autobot and her spark hummed loudly in panic, but she had been trained to always keep her cool, even before Ultra Magnus had entered her life.

She snarled viciously and moved to pinch the sensitive wiring in Railhead's neck to knock her into stasis.

_Autobot Life Signature Detected—Short Range: Designation Bulkhead _

The Cybertronian scrawl flashed across her HUD just as the large, green Wrecker appeared and Splitwing was able to put Railhead into a forced stasis.

The copper seeker slumped heavily into Splitwing's arms as Bulkhead approached, albeit cautiously.

"Hey, what happened?" He asked.

Splitwing wasn't in a position to argue or try to explain, so she resorted to the simplest, quickest explanation possible, "She needs Ratchet, _now._"

"Med-bay's right around the corner, I'll help," he said immediately and bent down to pick up the unconscious femme, "go get Ratchet."

Splitwing nodded once and took off at a lurching gait due to the fresh welding tearing in her leg. She grunted slightly and nulled the pain receptors in that area, bolting into the med-bay.

"It's about damn time you showed up!" Ratchet started, but froze when he swiveled around to see Splitwing's disheveled appearance.

"Railhead has a virus in her processor that allows for memory files to slip passed her firewalls and into her consciousness. She _should _have notified you, but has not as of yet. She sees it as a weakness and a personal vendetta to rid herself of it on her own, you _must _help her before she off-lines herself or someone else!" Splitwing blurted as Bulkhead strode purposefully into the med-bay, Railhead in his arms.

Splitwing was not a femme to easily lose her cool, but the magnitude of worry and anger she felt for Railhead was pushing on her limits of control. She hated seeing her teammates in pain or suffrage, especially when there was help to fix the problem.

Ratchet had never heard Splitwing say so much in one go since she'd woken, granted that _hadn't _been that long ago, he had gotten the distinct impression that she was more reserved. However, under the circumstances, he wouldn't pass judgment on that just yet.

He ordered the green Wrecker to set her on a berth and clear out. He snapped into medic-mode and set to work repairing the damaged femme's processor, ordering Splitwing to sit on another berth.

He had not failed to notice the impaired welds on her leg.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Ratchet had dutifully medically sedated Railhead under the precaution she might regain consciousness. Once he was certain she was out for the count, he turned to Splitwing.

She seemed startled by his sudden attentions as he grabbed her leg and stretched it out, forcing her onto her back.

"You should repair Railhead first…" she said, trying to sit up.

The red and white medic grumbled, "Railhead's repairs will take hours if not days, a processor glitch is no easy fix, especially one that developed on its own _and _is virus-related. I will patch up your leg so I may have complete silence and peace to work on her." He then hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin, "Mikaela should see this; it would be a good learning experience."

Ratchet immediately hacked into the PA system on the base and demanded Mikaela's presence in the med-bay immediately.

"Who is 'Mikaela'?" Splitwing asked as Ratchet numbed the nerve receptors in her leg, preparing it for the welding work to come.

He pushed a plate of her armor aside, exposing the damaged area, "She is my human apprentice. She will aid in your repairs, though only minutely."

Splitwing saw fit not to argue with the curt tone he gave, instead choosing to run another self-diagnostic on her internal systems: everything was in working order, save her fractured spark. At the thought of her ailment, her spark twinged and throbbed, pushing against its restraints in search of a suitable partner to fill the painful void in her soul.

She with-held a wince of pain and ground her denta instead, fisting her servos and focusing on the sounds of Ratchet tinkering with her thigh.

_Foreign Organic Lifeform Detected—Short Range: Unknown Designation_

Splitwing turned her helm to the side to watch as a small, human female waltzed into the med-bay, covered in grease and grime. She pocketed what appeared to be a wrench and proceeded to climb up the stairs that led to the scaffolding above Splitwing's head. The dark-haired human wiped her filthy hands on a dirty rag and glanced down curiously at the femme on the berth.

"Hey Ratchet, you called?" She said amicably and turned to watch his ministrations within the depths of Splitwing's right thigh.

"Yes, I did. This _foolish _femme has gone and ripped open some fresh repairs in her upper leg and I saw fit that you come and watch the repair, perhaps even help with it," Ratchet replied clinically and pulled his welding gear out of subspace.

Mikaela smiled, "Cool, I'd love to help. Fixing you guys beats repairing old jalopies _any _day of the week."

Splitwing decided she liked this human femme.


	9. Chapter VIII

_**Ah, yes, we get to see a bit of Splitwing's past! Woot woot! Enjoy! R&amp;R!**_

_CHAPTER VIII: GLIMPSE OF THE PAST_

Just as Ratchet lowered Mikaela down to the berth, Optimus quietly entered the med-bay. He strode over to the medic with a casual but purposeful gait, all the while assessing what Ratchet was doing. He was slightly surprised to see an unconscious Railhead in the corner, and a leaking Splitwing in another.

"What happened?" He rumbled and stopped behind his old friend.

"Railhead failed to mention she has a virus destroying firewalls in her processor and Splitwing decided to reverse the repairs I completed in her leg," Ratchet griped and showed Mikaela how to gently move aside sensitive wiring in the grey femme's leg so as to avoid damaging them during the welding process.

The Prime's brow rose at the revelation, "Will there be any permanent damage to either of them?"

Ratchet pushed air through his ventilation systems harshly, blasting poor Mikaela in the face with hot air, "_No, _Splitwing will be ready for training by the morning, but Railhead's condition I am unsure about. I will work on her once I've finished Splitwing."

Optimus nodded in relief, "Good, but I am actually here to speak of another problem."

"_Primus, _don't tell me the Skids and Mudflap got into another brawl because I will _not _fix them after I _just _repaired them!" Ratchet snarled and whirled around to face Optimus.

The large mech shook his helm, "Skids and Mudflap are fine. It is Splitwing I worry about."

Said steely seeker froze on the berth, _oh, boy. _She had been hoping Optimus would have waited until she was not in the presence of the occasionally-volatile medic to disclose her glitch, but it would seem as though she had had no such luck.

Besides, it was probably for the best that she be present to explain any further details Optimus would miss.

Ratchet's optics narrowed dangerously, "Oh? And just what is this about?"

Optimus glanced to Splitwing lying vulnerably on the berth. She gave him a small, affirming nod of her helm, but he did not fail to miss the darkening of her visor. "Our newest seeker has a glitch in her battle computer."

The red and white bot was silent. Then he turned swiftly to smack the femme on the helm with his prized wrench, "And you neglected to mention this also?! Do you not think I would have needed to know if _you_ had a glitch?!"

Splitwing didn't miss a beat, "Railhead comes first. My _team _will always come first."

Ratchet scoffed, "And what if you couldn't protect them because of this glitch?"

The blue of her visor flared dangerously and she righted herself swiftly, "I have _always _put them first. I have a firm hold on my _glitch, _but Railhead does _not. _Do not mistake my silence on this matter for naivety!"

Optimus had to hand it to the young femme, she was certainly strong-willed and dedicated to her team. He appreciated those qualities in a soldier, in a _leader._

Ratchet looked as though he was going to retaliate, but Optimus stepped in before it could be taken too much further. "Ratchet, do you know of the parameters of her glitch?"

"A _glitch_ is a _glitch_, the _parameters _are irrelevant at the moment! I should have been informed so I could _repair _it! I do not condone such things!" He growled vehemently.

"What of Prowl's glitch? Was that not irreparable without destroying his battle computer? Have patience, old friend, and let her explain her illness," Optimus placed a friendly servo on the ruffled medic and watched as his red and white armor plating deflated and settled back into place.

"Very well," he grumbled lowly before turning on Splitwing once more. The femme had seemed to have calmed down as well, though her visor was still a deep blue that alerted both mecha to her severe displeasure and anger.

"I am afraid my glitch is far more complex than you think," she hissed, "don't you think I would have had it repaired by now otherwise?"

Ratchet huffed, "Go on."

"Should my emotional response to a dangerous situation become too extreme my battle computer overloads and puts my consciousness into stasis. Usually a physical response of violence ensues because I am unable to restrain myself," she explained and gripped the edges of the berth tightly. "I have not had such an attack in several _vorns. _I am in _control._"

The medic hummed quietly, his engine having quieted and his processor worked at full speed.

He was remembering a time eons ago, on a live Cybertron. A time before its destruction. "You were the cadet they requested a glitch repair for at the academy, weren't you?"

Her wings tensed, but she nodded stiffly, "I was."

"What happened to you? All records of your existence disappear shortly after that request," Ratchet said in a subdued fashion, lowering the pitch of his vocalizer.

Optimus cringed inwardly, wishing he'd have been able to quell the medic's curiosity for longer. He had not intended on asking about Splitwing's past until she was well cleared from the med-bay. He turned to assess her response to Ratchet's query, but saw only a femme long lost in an ancient memory file.

_The old sun was high in the sky, beating down on the glistening surface of the shimmering planet. Towers pierced the sky relentlessly, shining in the light of day, their metallic frames a beautiful myriad of colours. The air was a steady calm, for the moment, a slight breeze drifting through the yards. _

_The relaxed atmosphere was abruptly disrupted by the clashing of metal and shouts of aggression. Inside the high intimidating solid walls, pairs of Cybertronian mechs and femmes sparred viciously against one another. They ducked, dodged and lashed out at their partners' relentlessly. _

_They were savage. They were true warriors to-be, but they were young; they still needed close observation and continuous tutoring. _

_Standing on a higher step was an average sized red mech, watching each individual Cybertronian closely with a neutral expression. These cadets were advancing quickly, but some were… in need of more supervision. _

_The instructor, as identified by his air of authority and the respect each cadet showed him, stepped down from his post and approached a particular pair. A dark, steel grey, winged femme had managed to bring down her partner, another winged femme, but was having issues reeling in her self-control. _

"_Splitwing!" He barked upon arrival to the pair. The grey femme immediately snapped out of her battle mindset and jumped off her partner. _

"_I-I'm sorry, Laywing," she stuttered ashamedly and kept her head down. _

_The red mech shunted the air from his vents in a short sigh and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, "Are you doing your patience exercises as I instructed?"_

_Splitwing nodded solemnly and shrugged, "I guess they aren't working too well."_

_He shook his head, "Double your scheduled time, starting now. I don't want you sparring until you have your impulses in control."_

_The femme's head snapped up in defiance, "What?! How do I practice? Stay in shape? I'll lose all my skills!"_

_The instructor frowned and faced Splitwing entirely, "I would hardly define them as skills, if all you can do is act on desire."_

"_Desire?! You think I wanted to do that? I can't control it!" she retaliated, appalled that her teacher would think she _desired_ to hurt her friends. It was instinct, a reflex! She couldn't even remember doing it half the time!_

"_Your spark may not wish to, but your processor demonstrates otherwise," he clasped his servos behind his back and turned away from the femme, "do as instructed and we will speak in a few orns."_

_Splitwing's wings that protruded from her shoulders sagged and her head dropped, venting in defeat. It wasn't her fault that her processor was wired in such a way that she became savage. She couldn't help it; it just happened. _

_Laywing came up behind her colleague, "If it makes you feel better, I'm fine."_

_Splitwing snorted, "I knew you'd be fine. You're Laywing, as for me…" She sighed and turned to stalk off, "well I'm a different story."_

_Layway watched grimly as the grey femme trudged into the halls of the Autobot communictions-espionage academy, her wings laid flat against her back. The black winged femme couldn't watch any longer, and so went about turning to find a new sparring partner. _

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Splitwing had been sitting in her quarters silently, arms crossed and optics offline beneath her visor. Upon entry to the academy, she had been instructed to keep it retracted in order for superior figures to see her entire face, but she felt too exposed having it up all the time. _

_So, now in the privacy of her room, it was down and she was venting her frustrations quietly. Her chassis had tightened as the feeling of rage consume her spark, but she let it go. She claimed to be patient, but knew that she could never be if she couldn't control her urges in combat. In some cases, she figured it would come in handy, especially if someone was in dire need of aid. _

_Her commanding officer didn't see it that way. _

_Two sharp _thwack's_ on her door signaled the unexpected arrival of a bot some time later. Splitwing brought her optics online, neglecting to retract her visor, and stood onto her pedes slowly. She figured it was Laywing, bringing her some energon. The femme checked the time in her internal clocking system and was mildly taken aback at the late hour. _

_Laywing would definitely be in her quarters. _

_Splitwing cautiously opened the door and immediately stood at attention after catching the faded blue and red paintjob of a certain mech with high shoulders and a grim face. _

"_Ultra Magnus, sir," she stated, her backstruts ramrod straight. _

"_As you were, young cadet. I have a mission for you, should you be willing," he rumbled quietly, servos clasped behind his back. _

_Splitwing was instantly suspicious, why would Magnus come to her berthroom at such an hour, with a mission? Mirage had made it painfully clear he didn't believe she was capable of service quite yet. _

_She remained silent, thinking it the best option in this case. She didn't want to offend the senior bot._

"_Cadet Splitwing," he said, "your response?"_

_Her wings straightened in her tense state, "I follow the command of all superior Autobot commanders."_

_His faceplates shifted into the slightest of crooked smiles, "Very well, report to Hangar Three within the joor. Order Vynyan has been activated. You will meet your new teammates upon your arrival to the hangar and you shall execute it."_

_Splitwing acknowledged his order and slipped back into her quarters as his dismissed her. _Is Laywing coming?_ She shook her head, did she need to pack anything? She was suddenly aware how barren her quarters were, there was nothing personal in here. _

_With a half-hearted shrug, Splitwing turned and left her quarters. What _was_ Order Vynyan?_

_Not ten minutes later she arrived at Hangar Three. She stepped inside slowly, checking things out before she made her presence known. In the middle of the hangar was a smaller, lone Autobot Destroyer class war-ship. She immediately scanned for life-signatures and was not surprised to find that there were seven other cadets on board. _

_She crouched down, assessing the empty bays. Once she was certain that no one was going to jump out and do Primus knows what, she sprinted silently onto the Destroyer. _

_Waiting in the cargo hold were the seven cadets, all mecha save one femme. Splitwing recognized her as Mirage's "favourite". He always seemed to regard her with the most praise and respect, despite her sparkling-like attitude towards others. Splitwing instantly went rigid._

"_Well, well, well. Looks like the resident screw-up's been recruited, boys!" She sneered at Splitwing, making it blatantly known her dislike for the winged femme. _

_She didn't take the bait, simply stalking passed the cadets and forward until she reached the cockpit. She had hoped that Ultra Magnus would be found there, but she hadn't sensed his spark-signature upon her first and second assessment of the ship. _

_Instead, as soon as she sat down in the pilot's seat, his commanding tone irradiated from every corner of the ship, "Welcome cadets, to your new home."_

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"I do not wish to live in the past, I will aid in missions should my memories be pertinent, but _please_ do not ask if it is irrelevant. Someday I may be more willing to share, but you must understand how painful it is for me to know I was played like a record for so long. I stole for him and I killed for him. Only once I come to terms with my failure will you know the details of my history."

Splitwing gently nudged Mikaela aside and swung her legs off the berth, standing easily. Her face plates were pulled into the most haunted and pained expression Optimus had seen in centuries, shocking both he and Ratchet. She manually pushed her leg armor back into place and stalked out of the med-bay, despite the repairs still needed on her frame.

Ratchet, surprisingly, let her go without complaint. His lips were marred in a frown and his optics were dark and narrow. He quietly turned on his heel to make a note on one of his many datapads, though this time he was unusually silent as he did so.

Optimus vented softly, "No Cybertronian could have known about Ultra Magnus' actions."

Ratchet paused in his work, venting a sigh as his shoulder plating dropped. "I know," he mumbled dejectedly, "but it does not change the fact that he stole away _our _young femmes and mecha to _corrupt _them. Had he not, Splitwing would not have a glitch nor would she have a _fractured spark_. Railhead would not be in my med-bay in a forced stasis and only Primus knows how many younglings we've lost to his _treachery._"

The medic stared in horror at the wall in front of him, whispering, "Primus, _how _many _have _we lost?"

Optimus stepped forward purposefully, not liking where Ratchet's thoughts were taking him. "As Splitwing said, let us not dredge up the horrors of our past. We _will _bring Ultra Magnus to justice for his treason and crimes and I swear it to you by Primus and by my name as Prime."

Ratchet's gaze fell to his work table, staring blankly at the servos that had saved so many sparks, but had failed to save so many more.

The blue and red mech laid a comforting servo on Ratchet's shoulder, "We may have lost many younglings to this war and to Ultra Magnus, but now we have two that have rejoined us and another to hope for."

After a moment of silent contemplation, Ratchet nodded numbly. He turned around slowly to take in Railhead's limp body, "I'll repair her to the best of my ability… and I'll make an apology to Splitwing, it appears as though I have under estimated our young femme."

Optimus gave him a sad smile, "I think that would be best. She is strong, and I am more than pleased that she fought her way to us, both her and Railhead."

"As am I, Optimus."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing could be found outside of the base, leaning against the rock wall with the inner workings of her right thigh exposed. She had pulled a few tools from subspace that would aid in the minor repair and had set to work. First she sealed off the energon leak, then she re-welded the large gash that had torn open in her mad dash to get Railhead taken care of.

After finishing the repair, she closed her armor gently and leaned back against the rock face, her optics off for the moment. Her exhausts cycled quietly, nearly silent to the darkening sky. She obviously closely guarded her energon life signal, so she was undetectable by Decepticons and since Optimus had not yet given her access codes nor had Ratchet synced her life-signal to his scanners, she was also undetectable to the Autobots.

She was virtually invisible out here.

Or so she had thought.

Fifteen minutes passed in a sweet, dark silence; Splitwing lost in her own thoughts and memories. Then, the quiet was disrupted by the soft patter of human footsteps. Splitwing's enhanced communicating sensors picked up the noise only just, but it only took a moment for her sensors to get a trace on the small, foreign being.

The femme activated her optics and her visor was washed with a vibrant blue, bringing her face back to life.

_Foreign Organic Life Signal Detected—Short Range: Unknown Designation_

A few minutes later, Mikaela popped around the corner. She was panting lightly, but otherwise appeared the same as when Splitwing saw her in the med-bay. She had removed her coveralls, however, and replaced them with a clean pair of blue, denim jeans and an older, worn white shirt that appeared to glow in the dark.

Splitwing leaned forward to watch her approach, laying an elbow on her knee.

"Hey, Splitwing," she greeted and waved once, taking a seat next to the female Cybertronian.

Splitwing nodded in greeting, "Mikaela, what may I help you with?"

The young lady pursed her lips, thinking over her next words carefully, "Well, I wanted to come… apologize, I guess. Ratchet's just a gruff guy, he didn't mean anything."

Splitwing hummed, "That is not your apology to make, little one, nor is it Ratchet's. I know he meant nothing, he was merely curious, as I'm sure all other bots on this base are about my past."

Mikaela gave her a sheepish smile, "Well you can't blame me for trying. I don't like conflict, and it just seemed that you were pretty upset when you left the med-bay—still in need of repairs, might I add."

Splitwing chuckled lightly, "Yes, well, I appreciate your integrity and sense of honor among friends, Mikaela. You needn't worry about my leg, I have been trained in triage and I've repaired myself countless times."

Mikaela couldn't hide her frown, "Not anymore. You have friends here, no more 'self-repairs'! If you can't go to Ratchet, come to me! He's been training me in Cybertronian medicine, I can help you."

Splitwing gave the human a small smile, "I will try to restrain myself."

She nodded, her brunette ponytail bouncing slightly, "Good, now, one more thing. What the hell are you doing out here?"

The dark, steel grey femme leaned back again, "I'm afraid my explanation from earlier brought up some… more _unpleasant _memory files I have not looked at in a long time. I needed time alone to… _deal _with them."

Mikaela's mouth opened in an 'O' as she understood Splitwing's not so subtle implication. She then placed her hands on her hips, "Are you okay now?"

Splitwing cycled air through her internal systems loudly in a sigh, "As I'll ever be." What she didn't tell the little human was that she _always _saw haunting images from her past.

Images of a raging Ultra Magnus would randomly flit across her vision. A little Sandflare crying out for attention. The retreating backs of Snowblitz and Railhead as they headed off on another mission without her.

The resounding ache in her spark that she now knew was a fracture. It was all a result of centuries of war.

She was just another haunted soldier.

"Do you want to come back inside now? It's getting kinda cold out and I know _I'm _hungry," Mikaela rubbed her bare arms.

Splitwing snapped back to the present, staring down at the human as she shivered slightly.

She offered her a servo, "I _could _use a cube of energon."

Mikaela grinned and climbed readily into her offered palm, obviously used to the gesture and resulting maneuver. Splitwing stood smoothly and sauntered casually back into base, walking quietly down the now desolate corridors.

Splitwing carried Mikaela to the human barracks, where she would find food and a bed. The pair bid one another a good night and went their separate ways.

The seeker strode into the common area where the bots kept regular-grade energon and sought out a cube for herself. She popped the seal and sipped from the cube, sighing quietly as the fuel hit her systems.

_Autobot Life Signal Detected—Short Range: Designation Jazz_

Splitwing sighed again and closed her eyes, her visor going dark. She swirled a mouthful of energon around her mouth with her glossa and swallowed thickly. She didn't have the energy to talk to the saboteur. She couldn't keep her façade up much longer, having been drained mentally from her day of excitement and reminiscing.

She heard the dull thumping of his footfalls as the silver mech entered the room. He seemed to pause at the sight if her, but she knew his reputation. He had known she was in the room much sooner than she had noticed his approach.

"'ey Spits, what're ya doin' up?" He asked as he walked into the room, reaching around her to grab his own cube of energon. His chassis nearly brushed against her back, making her spark lurch in its place.

She growled at it internally, flinching as it pulsed and throbbed. She took another sip of energon and turned on her heel, finding herself face-to-face with him. Her vents hiccupped at the proximity and pain in her chest, surprised that he hadn't stepped away after grabbing his fuel.

"I could ask you the same," she replied and watched as he took a long dreg of energon.

He chuckled, "I suppose you could, but I asked firs'."

She snorted with a shrug, "Same reason as you. I'm here to refuel."

Jazz raised a brow, "Refuel, huh? What made ya go through yer last cube so quick? Ratchet designed this stuff ta last a cycle, somethin' 'er other 'bout our systems processing it slower—unless we get stressed."

She swallowed thickly while looking down at her cube, swirling its contents absent-mindedly as if to distract herself from Jazz's sharp intellect.

"I know fer fact that Ratchet fed ya in the med-bay, he never lets somebot leave under-fueled. So, what happened?" He smirked slightly in his victory. He also noticed her uneasy demeanor and wavering visor shade, seeing the pain and discomfort in her "eyes"—he couldn't see _through _the visor, but he knew well enough how to _read _it.

It _was_ how he portrayed his emotions, after all.

Splitwing sighed loudly and her shoulders visibly dropped, her wings sagging heavily, "Took a stroll down 'memory lane'—wasn't pleasant."

Jazz hummed quietly, "Ah, I understand where yer comin' from."

It was her turn to raise a brow. How would he know what it was like to be stolen away and forced to fight for a cause he didn't believe in?

He rolled his eyes beneath his visor, he saw her frustration and anger—he wasn't _blind_, "Spits, we're _all _in this war. Just know that if ya need a mech ta talk to, come find me."

She watched him saunter away, a little confused, and yet she was oddly pleased by his reply. Confused that he would be so willing to offer his services as a listener and friend; and yet pleased that he would not ask questions about her past.

Jazz was smart.

She didn't mind that.


	10. Chapter IX

_CHAPTER IX: COME AT ME_

"Okay, this would be the part where you slow down—slow down, slow _down! _Smokescreen, _SLOW DOWN!_"

There was a jovial laugh that burst forth from the high-end speaker system as Smokescreen finally eased off the accelerator, his frame shaking with mirth.

Win scowled at the dash, "Speed limit _drops _when you get closer to a city! It does _not _go _up!_"

"Awe, c'mon dude! Speed is everything!" The silver car drawled lazily.

The blonde human seethed as his heart finally slowed down. Smokescreen had gone racing into the city limits, nearly rear-ending seven different vehicles and zig-zagging through slower traffic.

"No!" He barked, "Speed is _not _everything! You can kill other people in a collision if you don't kill yourself!"

The young mech scoffed then went oddly quiet, sinking slightly on his axels.

"Now, just let _me _drive until you can get the hang of traffic _laws._ They're called _laws _for a reason, Smokescreen. They are there to prevent accidents and make driving more efficient," Win pinched the bridge of his nose and drew a deep breath.

"… sorry," Smokescreen muttered, then tried to redeem himself, "but I like to go fast!"

Win exhaled slowly, "Just—just don't do it again, okay? It may seem odd, but I like living."

Smokescreen seemed to hold his breath before releasing it in a harsh cough of his engine and a billow of smoky exhaust, "Yeah, okay."

"Thank you, now just listen and learn. I know you can download all this information from the internet, but I think it would be better if I explained it to you anyways," Win said and grabbed the soft, leather steering wheel.

"… probably."

"Alright, see that white sign over there?" Win pointed to the posted speed limit.

"Yep."

"_That's _the speed limit, which you are still going fifteen over," Win raised both eyebrows and brought his right foot to the pedals.

"… fine," Smokescreen grumbled and gave _complete _driving control over to Win. The needle on the odometer finally dropped to the proper speed and Win felt the pressure of the accelerator against the bottom of his shoe.

"Thank you," the young man smirked, "okay, see that red light? Above the intersection ahead?"

"… nope."

Win sighed.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

She lay sprawled out in her own pool of energon. Her entire frame ached from abuse, her wings shivering from the cold air that was pumped into her little cell.

Snowblitz was tired. She hadn't been allowed to feed in several cycles and the leaks in her energon lines were quickly depleting the stores in her body.

She ventilated her internal systems slowly, taking the time to run a test on them; the results were not good. Lockdown had taken her ability to walk when he had viciously ripped off her leg armor. He took away all access to her weapons. He took away her energon. He took away her pristine, snowy appearance.

Yet, he had failed to remove her com systems. A barely noticeable twitch of her lips plates was the only indication of consciousness.

She had hope.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing spent the rest of the night, the following day and that night trying to recharge, but her systems wouldn't slow down enough to enter stasis. She kept witnessing the moment that she left little Sandflare behind, deep in stasis and safely on his way in an escape pod to somewhere he could finally be away from Ultra Magnus. She remembered his adorable, trusting optics boring holes into her soul as she placed him lovingly inside the hold she had adjusted to fit him.

Railhead had been standing behind her on her left, Snowblitz had been on her other side. They all watched as the pod carried the little, orange, mech sparkling off to the stars. Railhead had nearly erupted into sobs, but managed to hold them in. It had been a sad, terrifying moment for them all, but it had also been gratifying. Sandflare was safe now. They would find him again, one day.

It was well into the next cycle when Splitwing even bothered to come back to the present. Even then it was only because of the loud knocking on her newly assigned quarters' door. She had hacked into the databases mainframe to find which quarters belonged to her, and then she memorized whose quarters' were whose.

She stood from her berth, visor down as always and she was then hit with a sense of familiarity. Eons ago, she had risen from her berth as she had just done to answer the door for Ultra Magnus.

Only she had been so naïve back then. Now, she was a battle-hardened femme who was on the road to vengeance. Once Ultra Magnus paid for his wrong doings, _then_ she would finally be able to find peace.

She wirelessly opened the door and was mildly surprised to find Ratchet standing awkwardly on the other side. His face was pulled into a frown and his optics darted around as if he couldn't focus or was too nervous to really think of anything else to do. However, as soon as the entrance to her quarters opened, his gaze snapped to meet hers.

"Ratchet," she greeted and bowed her head respectively. She hadn't forgotten yesterday's show, but she refused to make it awkward between them.

The medic pursed his lips, "Splitwing, I believe I owe you an apology."

She shook her head and lowered her optics to the floor, "As I explained to Mikaela last night, you have nothing to apologize for. I understand your concerns—as well placed as they are—but you needn't worry about me. When you are ready or have free time, I will come in so you many assess my glitch, but I was also not lying when I said I have a firm hand on it. There are no hard feelings between us, at least not on my end."

Ratchet looked a little shell-shocked, having been taken by surprise. He had not expected her _ease _in speaking of the previous cycle's mishap, nor had he expected her to be animosity-free. Nevertheless, he appreciated her honesty and maturity in dealing with it all, especially for being one so young. She was truly, quite a femme.

"Well, thank you. I will refrain from asking too many questions," he nodded his head once in confirmation of his statement. "Now, how is your leg?"

"It is fine," a small smile crept its way onto her lips, "I was able to finish the repair quite easily."

Ratchet raised an eyebrow, "Very well, just so you know, I have cleared you for light duty and I will be beginning to evaluate Railhead."

She nodded, her expression switching to one of somber seriousness, "Thank you for looking after her, Ratchet."

"Yes, yes, where would you be without me?" He grumbled and waved his hand dismissively.

Her resulting grin did not sit well in his tanks, causing something to roil. He did _not _like that look on anybot, particularly on Jazz. Shaking off his feeling of unease he made his leave, heading back to the med-bay.

Splitwing turned and strode off the other way, in search of somebot who could show her new working quarters to her.

It didn't take long to track down Optimus, having found him in the common area speaking quietly with Jazz. The pair seemed deep in conversation, talking in subdued tones and hushed hand gestures.

Suddenly, Splitwing's spark lurched aggressively in its hold. It caused her to nearly double over, but she managed to check the motion. Instead, she clutched painfully at her chassis as the throbbing increased tenfold. Her engine spluttered, choked and coughed, her hidden turbines whirring minutely.

Apparently she had been loud enough to draw the attentions of both Optimus _and _Jazz, who immediately stopped talking. Both came rushing over to give her aid.

"Spits, what's happening?" Jazz grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her chest, preventing her from damaging herself with her sharp talons. She choked and snarled in agony as her spark beat like a mad jack-hammer, kicking back against its cage in her chest.

It was then as if somebot took a sharpened knife to her spark and ripped it down the existing fracture, tearing an even greater hole in her soul.

She clenched her jaw as the pain sluggishly subsided, the figurative knife having been ripped away. She wasn't sure how she had managed to stay on her feet.

Optimus watched with sad optics as she finally gained control of herself. He wished there was more he or Ratchet could do, but the medic had made it clear what the femme's options were. It was up to her to decide which mech to take as her mate, or face the gnarly procedure of medical intervention.

Ratchet had later explained to him just he would need to do to prevent her fracture from growing, and it didn't sound nice. Optimus wouldn't even dare think of using it as a _torture _device on _Decepticons. _

Splitwing's cooling system worked in overdrive to compensate for the rush of heat that had flooded through her body. Her wings sagged heavily and her servos trembled slightly.

Optimus would have to ask Ratchet what would cause such a reaction from Splitwing.

Jazz growled, interrupting the Prime's thoughts, "What was that?"

"'s never been that bad before," she slurred slightly and blew the hot air from her vents in a sigh.

Optimus' optics narrowed marginally, _before? This had happened before? _

"_What _hasn't?!" Jazz hissed, shaking her wrists gently and glancing back at Optimus, "Where's Ratchet?"

She shook her head and tried pulling away from the silver mech, "I'm fine, it's fine."

"Fine? Ya just abou' had fraggin' spark failure right in fron' of us!" He held her wrists firm. His visor was flashing a bright, lightning blue in alarm.

"Jazz, I am fine," she enunciated slowly. As if to show how fine she was, her wings perked up and stiffened with what Optimus could only guess was pain.

"Jazz," Optimus laid a hand on his First Lieutenant's shoulder, "at ease."

The saboteur slowly dropped her wrists, eyeing her up suspiciously, "What's goin' on here?"

Splitwing vented in a sigh. Optimus looked to her with a soft expression, "It is your decision."

"Decision? Decision for what?" Jazz growled, clearly becoming frustrated.

The steely grey femme looked to Jazz as her wings lowered to half-mast, "I have a… condition. I am currently working on a fix, but it's slow going."

His visor darkened with his frown, "What condition?"

"A spark condition, look, I'll explain it one day, maybe. It's a bit of a... _touchy_ subject for me at the moment," Splitwing stared forlornly at the floor.

Jazz immediately picked up on her distress and his face softened as he dropped his aggressive behavior, "Alright, c'mon, let's go fer a walk."

She looked up sadly, but followed him out of the common area anyhow.

Optimus watched them go with a bitter-sweet smile. Jazz was always the first to pick up on the subtleties of mood changes and he could not have been more thankful for the smaller Autobot's presence than he was then—if only to keep Splitwing company for a while. The leader wasn't sure how to convey to the femme that she wasn't alone anymore, having heard the story from Mikaela that morning that she had fully repaired her leg on her own the night beforehand.

The Prime vented lowly, sighing and turning to grab himself a cube of energon before heading off to address his daily duties.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing soon found herself in a training ring, Jazz grinning at her from across the Cybertronian-sized mats. He bounced lightly on his pedes and wiggled his claws in the universal sign for 'Come at me!'

"C'mon, Spits! I know ya got it in ya, hit me!" He clapped his servos excitedly.

She found his enthusiasm endearing, but still felt a resonating throb coming from her spark. Not wanting to push herself, she put her hands up to surrender, "Don't really feel like it, but thanks."

He gave her a cheeky smirk, "As yer new combat advisor, I'm _tellin' _ya ta hit me."

She rolled her optics, giving in to his instigation. "Well, if you put it _that _way, I guess I don't have a choice."

Without another word, she lunged forward, not to attack, but to distract him so she could slip beneath his defenses and hit from behind.

It worked. He brought his fists up to block the strike he figured would come, but when she fell backwards and slipped between his legs, he could not have been more surprised. Splitwing popped up behind him just as he whirled around, getting a mouthful of her servo as she struck him with her palm.

He was knocked backwards and Splitwing continued her assault. She leapt up and lashed out with her left leg, clipping his shoulder and knocking his torso to the side. She then took advantage of his unbalanced form and shoved him onto his aft with her elbows. She jumped on top of him and straddled his waist, grabbing his throat and holding a fist above her head as if to punch him again.

He stared dumbfounded at her, caught _totally _off guard.

She smirked and brought her fist down as if to hit him, but at the last second held back, "How'd I do, _advisor_?"

Jazz laughed heartily as she clambered off him, "Well done! But don' get used to it, don't think ya can get the drop on me again!" He jumped back to his feet and wiped a servo across his lips to check that he wasn't leaking energon. She had given him one helluva hit.

Splitwing chuckled quietly and backed off, "You _told _me to hit you. I was just following orders."

"So ya were, good job, now let's see how ya do when I fight back!" He grinned dangerously as his visor darkened, mirroring the dark blue shade that Splitwing's had taken with the rush of fighting.

She turned to face him just as he struck, sweeping his leg out to knock hers away. She jumped over him easily, rolling over his lowered shoulders and landing lightly on her pedes. Jazz smirked and twisted his torso so he could grab one of her ankles, pulling it away so her legs separated.

With her weight redistributed, he jumped up and knocked her down with one swift kick to the chest plates before she could retaliate. He made to straddle her as she had done to him moments ago, but she saw him coming and pulled a backwards somersault, rolling away.

Jazz lunged for her again before she could fully stand, wrapping his arms around her own to pin them to her sides. She grunted and squirmed in his grip, and just when he thought she would give up, she brought one of her knees up to hit him right in the covering armor of his interfacing equipment.

He hissed and jumped back, giving Splitwing another opening. She twirled in a full roundhouse kick that sent him reeling. Doubled with the shock of being whacked between the legs, it took him a moment to recover.

In a second he was back on his feet, albeit a little less excited to jump at her again. She smirked and raised her servos defensively.

He grinned, _a challenge! _His visor flashed playfully as they excitedly ran towards each other at the same time. Their forearms clashed together viciously, but both of their armors were meant to take a hit.

They twirled and lashed at one another again, but were both met with the other's arm.

"Where'd ya learn ta fight?" Jazz asked as he ducked to avoid a punch.

Splitwing leapt over his sweeping legs again, "The academy. Honed my skills in battle."

He grabbed her elbow and threw her over his head. She twisted mid-air to land on her pedes and threw a kick back at him.

"Who taught ya?" He dodged the kick and slashed mockingly with his talons.

She knocked his attack aside and made to catch him in an uppercut, "Designation was Mirage."

Her answer seemed to surprise him as her fist clipped his chin.

"Mirage?" He jerked backwards to miss another punch and grabbed the offending arm. He rushed forwards to strike her chassis with his elbow, but she flipped away, wrenching her arm free from his grasp.

"Yes, Mirage," she reiterated and came to a stand-still, seeing Jazz suddenly take up a relaxed stance. Apparently he was done sparring for the moment. Splitwing dropped her defensive stance and simply waited for him to say something.

"I know him. He was under my command as a spy," he pursed his lips. "I haven't seen him in a long time, though."

"Neither have I," she said after a moment. "I can't say that I was _happy _under his directive."

"Why's that?" Jazz cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms contentedly, visor lightening as the heat of fighting was expelled from his frame through his vents.

She blinked slowly and turned her head to look at a shadow on the wall. "I was always trying to please him. Though, he never seemed to care about my progress." _Because he was too busy training Highway. If only he'd have known she would become a backstabbing traitor, perhaps he would have noticed me. _

"That doesn't really sound like 'im," Jazz mused.

Splitwing's head snapped back around as she shrugged, "Bots change." _Maybe he finally came off that high pedestal he liked to stand on._

Jazz also shrugged, "Maybe. That was a _long _time ago."

"Yes, it was," she murmured.

The silver mech hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then rubbed his now sore chin. Splitwing watched him quietly, her wings settling into a semi-contented position. She managed to hold her own against the Autobots' most well-known saboteur, she was happy.

It appeared that the two Cybertronians found themselves in a comfortable quiet, subtly assessing each other's figure. Splitwing was searching for some hint of an attack—knowing he could if he really wanted to. Jazz was just looking at _her_.

Her dark steel grey armor shone reflectively in the lights of the training room, despite still needing to be buffed and repainted. Her sleek, uniquely shaped wings shifted slightly as she put a hip out, leaning to the left. The slim, sharp crest protruding from her forehead drew his gaze down to her electric blue visor, which he could so easily read.

It was undoubtable.

She was a pretty femme.

"Ya know," Jazz broke the silence, shifting on his pedes.

She looked to him expectantly, "Hm?"

"That was really low hitting mah groin."

She laughed. Jazz grinned slyly, liking the sound of hearing the more reserved femme finally let loose.

Even if it was at the expense of his interfacing equipment.


	11. Chapter X

_CHAPTER X: HELLO &amp; GOODBYE_

_ :Ratchet, have you a moment?: _Optimus spoke gently across the line to the older bot. He had finished all of his duties for the morning and finally had a couple of minutes to himself. The humans had taken a lunch break, most he learned had decided to go watch Jazz and Splitwing spar in the training room.

Thus, he finally had some much-needed alone time.

It took the medic a few moments to respond, likely caught up in his work. _:A moment, yes. What do you need?:_

_:I witnessed a troubling matter this morning I wish to speak to you about,: _the leader replied and set a newly cleared datapad aside. He stood slowly, the gears and pistons in his legs hissing and popping.

:_What was it?:_

He walked casually out of his office, choosing to go grab an energon cube while he was not too busy, having missed his morning fueling. _:Splitwing had some form of momentary spark failure.:_

_ :What?! Where is she now? What happened?: _The medic demanded.

_:Calm down, Ratchet. She is fine and is currently sparring with Jazz in the training hangar,: _Optimus tried in vain to quickly console his rapidly panicking medic.

_:You let her spar after a spark-attack?!: _Ratchet went on to mumble rather displeased Cybertronian curses over the line.

_:She insisted she was fine and said it had happened before.:_

_ :Go through the details. Now.:_

Optimus smiled slightly at his oldest friend's antics. _:She appeared in the entrance of the common room clutching her chassis. It appeared as though her spark was trying to… push against the chamber, causing her undue pain.:_

Ratchet was quiet for a moment as his mulled over the words. _:What next?:_

_ :Jazz approached her before me and then her ventilation systems nearly failed. It was rather horrible to witness,: _Optimus frowned at the memory from earlier that morning.

_:Hm, it would appear that her spark reacted to Jazz's presence. Maybe. I won't know for certain unless it happens again, this may have been an isolated incident. You are certain she is not damaged?:_

Optimus turned into the common area and moved to claim his cube of energon, _:She walked out behind Jazz as if it never happened.:_

Listening to the medic grumble, Optimus unsealed the cube and proceeded to ingest the energon.

_:Very well, notify me if it happens again,: _Ratchet said.

_:Of course,: _Optimus agreed and terminated the link, effectively ending the call.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing wasn't entirely surprised when a group of humans crowded in one end of the training room, chittering excitedly amongst one another. She and Jazz hadn't been quiet in their session and had drawn the attention of both humans _and_ Autobots. Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Sideswipe had joined the audience.

Everyone had gotten _really _excited when Jazz suggested weapons.

The people behind Splitwing roared enthusiastically, beginning to place bets on who would hit the mats first, who would land the first hit, who would draw energon first...

On and on the list went.

The humans never really got to see hand-to-hand combat between the bots, let alone with weapons, outside of the battlefield. Now they had an opportunity to watch Jazz evaluate the newbie and they were enjoying it immensely.

"Which weapon?" Splitwing asked, her systems buzzing from the rush of fighting.

Jazz smirked and trod over to the wall that housed several Cybertronian sized training implements. He grabbed two long staffs down and twirled them in his servos, "Personally, I like a good bo-staff."

She shrugged and easily caught the grey, metallic staff he tossed her way. She twirled it expertly in her own servos and matched Jazz spin for spin. He grinned savagely and suddenly struck for her knee.

She jumped backwards and their staffs smacked into each other. She felt the shock from the connection between the weapons and it jarred her arms, but she retaliated quickly and went to jab him in the abdomen. Jazz twirled around the attack and flicked his staff up against her wrist, trying to knock the pole from her servos.

Splitwing held on and pushed against him with the staff across his throat. Before he could counter her forward attack she ducked and twirled under his outstretched arm, she didn't want to go one-on-one against him in a show of strength. He would undoubtedly win _that _kind of match, but she would best him in agility.

Their pace quickened. Jazz turned and lashed out with his staff, but she dodged easily and countered, aiming for his knee. He stepped back and jumped forward, striking her in the chest. She grunted and took the blow, using the hit to propel herself backwards to minimize damage. She looked up to see Jazz twirl the staff flauntingly in one servo, grinning cheekily.

As he sunk into a defensive position, she launched herself at him. He expected her to come at him and so met her strikes head on, their staffs' clashing and slapping together. She kicked out with her pede, smashing it into his hip. He stumbled slightly, but swiftly righted himself just in time for her to ram the butt of her staff into his chin. The blow threw him backwards and Splitwing leapt forward, kicking his chassis with both pedes. She landed on top of his chest plates as he hit the mats.

He rolled to the right and Splitwing nearly fell on top of him, but managed to keep her balance well enough to jump off him and avoid his swinging arms. He pushed himself up with his servos and went at Splitwing with his talons, having dropped his staff on the ground.

She blocked his right servo, but couldn't move fast enough to dodge his left. She felt his claws brush against her side—he could have slashed out her innards—as he wrenched the staff from her grasp with his other servo. She stumbled slightly and turned to look at him.

He grinned and twirled the staff, showing off that he knew how to manipulate the pole.

She heard the humans guffaw in the back.

"C'mon! Smash him!" Sideswipe shouted and pounded his fists together.

Splitwing snorted at Sideswipe and turned back to the silver mech before her. His visor had dimmed and his stance relaxed, telling Splitwing rather obviously that he was on a com line.

_:Jazz, please show Splitwing her new office quarters.: _

The saboteur responded instantly to his leader, _:'course, should I give her a duty schedule?:_

_ :Please,: _Optimus said.

_:Understood, Jazz out.: _

Splitwing cocked her head to the side and watched Jazz come back to himself, his visor lightening. He shot her a smile and strode over to pick up his lost staff. He returned them to their respective position on the wall, "Show's over guys, time fer some real work!"

Everyone groaned and trudged disappointed out of the room, Sideswipe griping dramatically.

Splitwing raised a brow and looked to Jazz, "What's going on?"

"Boss bot told me ta show ya yer new office," he said and led her out of the training room.

"Ah," her vents were working in mid-gear, her body having been heated up during her workout with Jazz.

The silver saboteur moseyed casually down the corridors, sometimes skipping as if to a beat.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

It was two joors later when Splitwing was left alone. Her "office" turned out to be a large, multi-monitor console in the main hangar, surrounded by bustling soldiers and military traffic. Jazz had laughed at her surprised expression.

She had expected _office quarters, _with _walls. _

She shrugged and proceeded to plug into the console, downloading and sifting through information. She sorted the files and snorted at the rudimentary organization. Then she rerouted certain outputs to boost the power to the sensors, which increased both range and receptivity.

Splitwing was well aware of the stares she received, and the discomfort she felt showed in the stiffness of her wings. She didn't like too much attention, but she was getting it.

The humans whispered amongst themselves, unaware of the fact she could hear every word they said. They weren't calling her names, per say, the chatter was more along the lines of 'Not having seen such a big female', or 'one with wings'.

A sudden, blaring alarm caught her attention. Her face snapped up from the console keypad she had been looking at and read the Cybertronian scrawl on top the monitor.

She tapped her right audial base to initiate a link with Optimus, _:Splitwing to Prime. Proximity alarm's going off. Were there any scheduled arrivals for this cycle?:_

_:Yes, Agent Fowler was due back to help brief a new group of soldiers coming in. Thank you for the warning. When he lands, please direct him to my office.:_

_:Yes, sir.: _She terminated the call and silenced the alarm. Moments later she heard the freight elevator that was in front of her start up with a _clank _and a _whir_. She stepped around to be by the doors when they opened, unsure of what to expect.

An older, dark-skinned man stepped through with a rounded belly and short, curly hair. He glanced around the hangar and then seemed to notice that there was a bot standing in front of him, coming to a stop at the railings.

She cocked her head to the side. "Agent Fowler?" Splitwing asked.

He raised a thick, dark eyebrow, "You're new."

She pointed down the hall, "Prime requests your presence in his office."

Fowler frowned, "He couldn't come out here? Has something happened?"

She shook her head, "Second door on the left, do you need assistance?" She pointed down the hall again.

The agent snorted and shot her a patronizing glare, "No, thanks."

She nodded once and turned away from the human, returning to her new console. She felt him watching her, but then heard the quiet slapping of his shoes as he walked off to Prime's office.

Splitwing used a still of Fowler's face and added it to the rough profile of the man on the computer that existed. She preferred order inside a file and inside a computer, and was rather pleased when she found digital copies of a file for each and every human on the base. The Autobots were there too, but the humans misunderstanding of their culture and biology showed in those profiles.

She picked them apart and put them back together, this time with _correct_ facts and details.

Bulkhead was not simply a _warrior_, he was a _Wrecker_.

Sideswipe was not simply a _fighter_ or prankster, he was a _Front_-_liner_.

Jazz was not simply a _combat specialist, _he was a _saboteur. _

Splitwing fixed all the details she could, from what she had experienced first-hand and what she had read in previous reports—however stolen they may have been.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Three Days Later_

Ratchet had given no word as to what Railhead's condition was, but he had cleared Splitwing for full active duty. However, Splitwing couldn't focus entirely on her work. She was worried for her trinemate and was constantly plagued with thoughts of how she was going to react when woken.

The big femme hated that virus with a passion, but was so blinded by rage and ignorance she could not see that it needed to be repaired. She had seen it as a weakness Ultra Magnus had put there and so _needed _to be the one to fight it.

But Splitwing had had enough. The pair of them were in a much better place now, despite Splitwing's current physical development, and they no longer needed to protect themselves from their tyrannical leader. They would fight for the _Autobots, _not for Ultra Magnus.

Splitwing was pulled from her thoughts by a light rapping on her pede. She looked down to see a soldier giving her an expectant look, a small data-drive in hand.

"Major Lennox, how may I be of assistance?" She greeted and knelt down in front of him so their conversation would not be shared with the entire hangar.

"I was calling to you from the main doors, what's got you so distracted?" He raised an eyebrow.

Her cheeked flushed slightly with warmth—not that he could see—and her gaze flickered to her right, "I apologize, I've been concerned for the well-being of my trinemate as of late."

"Railhead? The one in medical?" Lennox asked and shifted on his feet. Splitwing held out a servo for him, which he easily clambered onto, and lifted him to stand on the platform by her helm so they would be face-to-face.

She nodded, "Yes."

"Ah," he looked up into her visor, slightly put on edge by the sight. He would have preferred to have seen her eyes, but Jazz had said something about wearing it because of light sensitivity in his eyes—perhaps she had the same issue. "I'm sorry to hear that she had a virus, but now she's in good hands."

Splitwing nodded once, "Yes, she is, though she may not believe it when she is woken."

"Why's that?" He asked, then remembered Optimus telling him that this femme had been through a very tragic history and so shouldn't be questioned or grilled too thoroughly. "If you don't mind my asking?"

She blinked slowly, "Of course not. She received that virus from the manipulation of another, and so saw it as a weakness she needed to eliminate on her own. I had told her to have it repaired as soon as she met somebot who could fix it, but it seems she was taking it too far. I needed to intervene."

"Oh!" The Major drawled, "so you think she's gonna be pissed when she wakes up because you made sure she was fixed up?"

Splitwing nodded slowly, "In cut and dry terms, yes."

Lennox couldn't believe how forthcoming she was being about this. Optimus had made it sound like she was going to break with one question, but she seemed to be a lot stronger than they both initially thought.

"Well, if I can help, lemme know. Anyways, I'm here because as the Autotbot's CO I figured you were the appropriate bot to give this to," he held out the small, black drive for her. "I assumed this type of file would be easier for you to use, instead of human sized, paper folders."

She gave him a crooked smile, "I appreciate the gesture, Major Lennox, thank you."

He waved off her words, "It was nothing."

The dark grey femme raised an optic ridge, "All the same, thank you."

He smiled, "Alright, well, I should get back to work. New recruits are getting grilled in the obstacle course."

Cocking her head to the side, she helped the good Major down, "Hm, I saw it the other day. It is…"

He chuckled at her loss of words, "Yeah, well _I _would like to transfer to a larger base and get some more funds. If we had more we could put together _proper _training courses and the like."

The seeker nodded slowly, deep in thought. "Perhaps I can put in word with your government."

His eyebrows shot up, "That would be awesome, though don't go through too much effort. The big-wigs can be a little stingy in the dollar-sign department."

She snorted at his words, "We shall see."

Lennox grinned, "I like you." He turned on his toes and marched off across the hangar, Epps intercepting him by the door to gossip about something or other. Splitwing didn't particularly care.

She stood back up and plugged the drive carefully into the console, watching how much strength she put into the motion. The data instantly popped up on the monitors and because she was still attached to computer via her data-transfer port in her hip, the data came up on her HUD as well.

Splitwing visibly recoiled at the news, somewhat taken aback. There was a message explaining in vague detail that Agent William was on report and a replacement liaison would be sent in for a few weeks, or months depending on Fowler.

Suddenly, alarms rang out across the hangar, nearly deafening the humans. They hunkered down and covered their ears, taken by surprise by the sudden long range scanner alarm. They'd never heard it before, since Splitwing was the one to boost its capabilities.

She pushed aside the message about Fowler and tapped rapidly on the con. Soldiers quickly came out of their stupor and gathered around to watch her work.

Dancing across the monitor was a green point, headed straight for earth.

It gave off an Autobot distress signal.

_:Splitwing to Prime.:_

_:What is it?:_

_:You need to see this.:_

Not two minutes later, Optimus charged into the hangar, careful not to squash any soldiers on his way.

"What is it, Splitwing?"

"Long range scanners picked up an Autobot distress signal coming from space, close to atmosphere. No contact has been made, possibly from ship damage," she reported and tried to hail the ship.

No answer.

"What is their expected arrival time?" Optimus scrutinized the monitor thoroughly.

"… Three breems at current velocity." Splitwing tapped another key on the console and a map of Iceland popped up. "At their projected telemetry they will land in Iceland."

Optimus' optics narrowed, "Could the Decepticons be aware of this?"

Splitwing nodded, "Yes."

The Prime lightly pressed a digit to the side of his helm, opening a public communication link to all Autobots on the base.

_:An Autobot distress signal has been picked up. Bumblebee, Jazz and Ironhide come to the groundbridge immediately.:_

There were a few resounding 'Yes sir!'s before he closed the line. He then swivelled to look at Splitwing. She was still typing furiously on the console, barely paying attention to him.

"Splitwing, I would like for you to come with us."

She froze. Then, her fingers twitched, "Are you certain?"

He nodded his blue head, "I am. Be ready for bridging in one breem, I want the surrounding area of their expected landing coordinates to be secured and the quickest way for that to be done is from the air."

The steel-grey femme nodded her pointed helm and sent out the message to the three mecha who would be accompanying them, "Yes, sir."

Shortly after, Jazz raced into the hangar and came skidding to a halt beside Splitwing, "Who is it?!"

She shook her head and glanced at Optimus out of the corner of her eye. He was speaking to one of the higher-ranking soldiers, more than likely about their newest mission. "I am uncertain as to whom is aboard the ship. I believe their communication system has been damaged."

The silver mech frowned, "That ain't good."

"No," she stated and turned to the groundbridge controls, entering their desired coordinates and locking them in.

"Where we goin'?" He followed her.

"I'm sure Optimus will tell you all when the others get here, but we are bridging to Iceland," she murmured and watched as Bumblebee jogged into the hangar, followed shortly by Ironhide.

He frowned again, "Can't say I've been to Iceland before."

"Me neither," she grunted, watching as both mecha raced up to her. Optimus strode over quickly, purpose in his steps.

"Autobots, we are going to Iceland to intercept a ship we believe to be in distress. Jazz, Bumblebee and Splitwing will ensure the perimeter is secure while Ironhide and I determine who is on the vessel," the Prime said quickly.

All four bots made a noise in the affirmative.

"Transform and roll out!"

The four mecha in the entourage shifted down into their respective vehicle forms. All the soldiers had stopped to watch as the Cybertronians did their thing, always amazed at the quick and effortless transformation.

Splitwing wirelessly activated the groundbridge and watched as the four bots hit the gas and roared through the green, swirling vortex.

The humans watched with bated breath, waiting to see the femme transform and fly out.

Splitwing took a step back, making sure she would have enough room to transform and fly through the groundbridge without harming anyone.

Then, she sprinted. The humans barely caught it as she shot forward and shrunk into a dark, steel grey F-15 ACTIVE and roared out of the hangar, deafening those left behind.


	12. Chapter XI

_CHAPTER XI: THROWBACK TO RAILHEAD_

Splitwing's engine screamed wondrously as she tore through the crisp, evening skies of Iceland. She pulled up as soon as she felt her frame leave the groundbridge, easily clearing the mechs beneath her.

She rolled to the right and fired her thrusters even more, picking up speed and levelling off. Her sensors were on maximum and her optics surveyed the rough terrain below.

All too soon she spotted the four Autobots a couple kliks behind her and decided to bank left and circle around them to make certain no Decepticons would come up behind them.

Jazz and Bumblebee split off from Optimus and Ironhide to more closely cover the ground. Splitwing's sensors weren't picking up anything other than the mechs below her and so focused her scanners on the skies.

Splitwing estimated that she would detect the ship in only a few minutes, and so she hoped that nothing would go awry with the arrival. If the vessel was actually damaged, anything could go wrong.

Taking a couple seconds to calculate the possibilities, she determined there was an unsettling number of reasons just _why _the ship may not have tried to contact the Autobots—none of them good.

Her thoughts were realigned when she heard another screaming engine in the distance.

_Decepticon Life Signals Detected—Long Range: Designations Starscream &amp; Blackout _

"Frag," she mumbled and opened a com line to Optimus, Ironhide, Bumblebee and Jazz. She turned sharply to the right and rolled twice, heading to directly cut off both Decepticon warriors, _:Starscream and Blackout incoming—moving to intercept.:_

_ :Use the utmost of caution,: _Optimus responded, _:and direct them to the ground where we may assist.: _

She vaguely heard Jazz growl aggressively on his end, but paid no mind as Starscream fired up his thrusters. He had seen her.

_:Understood, engaging Decepticons.:_

Splitwing pulled up abruptly and shot above Starscream. Blackout had fallen behind when the Decepticon commander had raced ahead, so Splitwing had a few moments to lay fire into the grey F-22.

Starscream flicked his elevators and chased after her, up high into the clouds. Then Splitwing pulled a sudden flip and raced down towards Starscream at double her previous speed, gravity working in her favour. She heard his engine choke in surprise and she opened fire on him.

The cowardly jet ducked to the left and Splitwing followed, tearing into his rear end. He screeched in pain as her blaster shots hit home, scorching his silver exterior.

"Insolent femme!" He howled and spun around.

Splitwing watched as Blackout approached, his rotor blades whipping dangerously. Starscream was forgotten as the black helicopter fired two missiles in her direction, locked onto her life signature.

The femme seeker dodged to the right and pulled up, pulling a loop around the explosives. She then fired two shots that effectively detonated them, leaving clouds of black smoke.

She had been distracted just enough that Starscream managed to sneak up behind her, and shoot her in her tail-wings.

Splitwing yelped and dropped a few feet in surprise. The nerve receptors in her wings flared angrily and she growled aggressively. Then she noticed that Blackout had dropped below her, heading towards Ironhide and Optimus.

She made to follow, but Starscream slammed his nose into her side and threw her off-course. Immediately rolling away from him, she turned and came back at him, blaster hot and ready.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Optimus watched on anxiously as Blackout and Starscream tag-teamed against Splitwing. She fought valiantly, trying to separate her attentions between the two flyers, but was just behind the cunning of Starscream and his speed. The Prime knew that the femme could easily enough fight against them both, but not at the same time.

Then Blackout broke away and roared towards him and Ironhide.

"Prepare to attack," he commanded and readied his stance, arms shifting into blasters.

Ironhide warmed his cannons and cracked the joints of his knuckles, "Decepticon punk."

The black helicopter flew up and then Blackout stood before them, his weapons primed and prepared to charge at them.

Before the con could blink, both Optimus and Ironhide open fired on him. Blackout lifted his arms to cover his face before twisting on his pedes and running around the Autobots. They kept shooting, aiming for vulnerable joints and exposed circuitry.

_:Autobot ship incoming!: _Splitwing reported quickly over the open com line. She then grunted and closed herself off again.

Optimus looked to the sky to see a black dot swiftly growing larger, and soon he could make out the wings and fuselage of the ship. He snapped his helm around to fire two quick shots at Blackout, "Take cover!"

Both he and Ironhide dove behind large boulders and watched as the dark vessel seemed to shudder mid-air and drop helplessly to the earth.

Blackout had disappeared and Optimus' audio receptors could barely pick up the sound of clashing metal and blaster fire. The scream of straining engines grew louder and Optimus' attention was drawn back to the struggling ship.

It took only a few long, anguishing nanokliks for the ship to make landfall, albeit roughly and rather dangerously with shrapnel flying off the damaged ship.

Up close, the Prime could see the true appearance of the craft. It was haggard, scorched, torn open and _dull. _Entire panels of the body were missing, which exposed vital wires and structural framework. Energon leaked from cracks in the armor-what was left of it-like it was coming from a faucet. Billowing from the ruined engine were clouds of black smoke and the entire frame steamed from the spontaneous atmosphere entry. The stabilizing rudders creaked and fell to the ground with a sharp _crank. _

It looked dead. Bleak. Lifeless.

Optimus could tell that the vessel was once a proud Autobot Destroyer, but had been reduced to smoldering ruins. It had flown its last leg.

_Sssst_

_ Fwhoosh_

The cargo bay opened slowly at first, but the damage that had been inflicted on the hinges caused the ramp to shudder and crash the rest of the way to the ground.

Optimus and Ironhide leapt out from behind their respective cover and cautiously approached the ship, weapons armed in the case that it turned out to be a Decepticon ambush.

A flash of colour caught their optics.

Leaning heavily against each other at the top of the ramp were two worn out and wounded Cybertronians. They had an arm around one another's shoulders and they then began to hobble forward. It was a slow process as they painstakingly limped down and out of the ship. Their proud armor had been dented and gouged, energon oozing from their unsightly wounds.

Yet, it had been their pride that had been hit the worst.

As soon as they noticed the Prime and his weapons' specialist standing at the ready, the bright green mech shoved away from his golden and blue comrade and wiped away the bloody trail coming from his mouth. He grunted and rolled his shoulders, wincing as something torn pulled in his neck.

The golden horned, blue mech simply let the green one go and turned his attention to gaze at the Autobots. He limped forward a couple more steps and upon recognition of Optimus fell forward into a deep bow, "Sensei, we have found you."

Optimus smiled softly and lowered his weapons, "Drift, Crosshairs, it is good to have you with us once more. What have you to report?"

"There is energon in the cargo hold and occupied stasis pods in the back; we mustn't leave them behind." Drift stood and gestured to the fallen vessel before gently clutching a leaking wound in his abdominal plating.

Optimus nodded as Ironhide stomped forward, "What in the name of Primus happened?"

The green mech twirled on his heel and waved angrily at the destroyed Destroyer, his kama flaring up as he spun. "_Lockdown _attacked our ship. We barely escaped with the energon! Bloody bastard didn't even _take _anything!"

Optimus' optics narrowed at the mention of the bounty hunter and was about to ask further questions when a sudden crash caused the ground to shake and debris to fly. The Autobots covered their faces and turned with weapons primed, unsure of what just happened.

They weren't expecting to watch as the slender form of Starscream dropped out of the sky to land on another grounded seeker.

Optimus' spark froze.

Starscream had landed _on _Splitwing.

He heard a grunt from the femme and a groan of metal as the vicious Decepticon commander leered down at her, pressing his heeled foot against her chest plates. He pointed his blaster at the femme's helm and prepared to fire.

"You have been a _thorn _in my side for far too long," he snarled.

Splitwing rolled her head to the side, her system still rebooting from the abrupt crash landing Starscream had caused.

"Starscream!" The Prime descendant barked and charged for the seeker, aiming his blaster. Ironhide was quick to follow, growling lowly. Drift and Crosshairs stayed behind, too wounded to aid in the fight, but they watched on with curious and concerned optics.

The silver seeker jumped in surprise and hopped away, taken aback by the Prime's shout. He then decided to finish off the femme before the Autobots arrived, not a mech to turn down such a golden opportunity.

However, in the short amount of time he was distracted, Splitwing had recovered enough to draw her twin swords from subspace and get to her feet.

Starscream turned just as she lashed out. Her swords created dual gashes across his chest plates, tearing apart his armor and rupturing several vital lines.

The mech seeker stumbled backwards and glanced at his chest in surprise. Optimus and Ironhide stomped closer and Starscream decided that the fight wasn't worth it. With a glance back at Splitwing—who had crossed her blades in front of her chassis, scowling darkly—he chose to transform and roar into the skies.

Splitwing sheathed her swords and prepared to take off after the mech seeker when Optimus came up behind her, "Stand down, Splitwing. Let him go, we require your assistance at the ship."

She bowed her helm, "Respectfully, sir, I cannot simply let Starscream go when he is injured. This may be a chance to off-line him we won't get again."

Optimus frowned, "Are you damaged?"

"Not enough to stop me."

His optics narrowed and he vented quietly, "Track his movements from here, but do not follow him. Starscream is a formidable opponent and I will _not _be so careless as to lose you to him."

The femme clenched her fists and her wings dropped in defeat.

The Autobot leader relaxed slightly and laid a large hand on her shoulder, "I do not doubt your fighting skills, but I have known Starscream for a very long time. He fights underhandedly and will not hesitate to gain the upper hand in any way necessary."

"I _know _that. I've dealt with him in the past. He nearly off-lined Railhead, _please _reconsider," Splitwing nearly begged, turning to watch the spot that was Starscream get smaller and smaller.

Optimus squeezed her shoulder, _so that was what this was about_, "I understand that your history is long and complicated, but no, Splitwing. We need you to help haul energon back to base and we have discovered stasis pods on the ship."

She turned away from the retreating Decepticon and bowed her helm, "Understood."

The Prime nodded once and walked back to the crashed ship. Ironhide seemed to give a scrutinizing glare to the femme, but after seeing her anguished expression his face softened, "You alright, femme?"

She sighed heavily and trudged after Optimus, "I don't know. It's always been my responsibility in the field to make the decisions and I never let a 'con get away if I had the chance to chase him down."

Ironhide rumbled quietly, "Optimus is just looking out for ya, he looks out for all of us. He takes to spark every injury and every death, even when not under his command."

Splitwing's gaze stayed low, "I know. I see it in his optics. He's…"

"Soft-sparked," Ironhide finished.

She nodded, "I supppose it's just difficult to process the fact that somebot truly cares about us. For so long it's been just _us._"

Ironhide grunted in acknowledgement.

The steel grey femme glanced at Ironhide from the corner of her optics, and after a moment of quiet, "You really don't remember?"

She seemed to catch him by surprise.

"What?"

"If you look back into your memory files, you'll find Railhead. I know she's there," the femme said softly.

The black mech shook his head, "I already checked when you first contacted the base, I have no recall for _any _cadets."

Splitwing hummed gently, "Railhead never advertised her cadet status, as she joined the Wreckers. You would know her as the Wrecker Throwback, she had a navy blue paintjob. She saw you as a brother for so long, never stopped talking about you—idolized you, even—she put so much faith in you."

Ironhide had gone silent.

Splitwing continued, taking keen notice of his reaction—or lack thereof—, "When we first met, it was recently after I was ordered away from the academy. She would keep explaining to me, in secret, that her brother would come save her. She believed that when she couldn't get out, you would come find her."

"And when I didn't?" His voice was low—gravelly, full of emotion.

"She broke. Ultra Magnus got in her head and she lost faith. She began to believe _his _cause and changed everything about herself; her appearance, colour and even had her vocalizer reformatted. I haven't hardly heard her say a word about you since," Splitwing said quietly as they came to a stop in front of the ship.

Ironhide stood, stupefied, as she strode passively aboard the ship, after Optimus and the other two mechs. He just stood there, lost in his thoughts as the sun went down and the others went about their business in the ship.

_Throwback. _

_His sister. _

He remembered _Throwback. _He remembered their bond. He remembered the perky little femme Wrecker who had wormed her way into his spark.

"Ironhide! What happened?" Jazz called as both he and Bumblebee sprinted towards him. Ironhide shook his head and rebooted his optics, turning to watch them come up to him.

"Hm?"

"What happened? We heard blaster fire and the ship crashing, then nothing, what happened?" Jazz demanded.

"Everythin' is fine, ask Optimus," Ironhide grunted and pointed to the open ship.

Jazz and Bumblebee gave the weapons specialist an odd look before darting off inside the hold.

Ironhide stayed outside to take a moment and just _think_.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing turned the corner into the cargo bay with noticeably tight shoulders. She was quite apprehensive about her situation, being that she didn't have a way to determine who was in the stasis pods.

She hated surprises.

It could be Ultra Magnus for all she knew, and that disturbed her greatly. _Would Optimus take him into custody? Let him wander the base? Let him command the Autobots?_ There was no way for her to tell, and it left a roiling coil of turmoil in her tanks that knotted her energon lines.

Just what exactly _would _Ultra Magnus do when they next encountered one another?

The possibilities of his reaction were endless.

The grey femme scowled darkly, _would she terminate him?_

She knew the answer even before she finishing thinking it.

_No. _

Splitwing didn't have what it took to snuff his spark. Oh, dear Primus, she could _dream _about it, but she couldn't just kill him in cold blood. She may have killed before, but it was never with such hatred towards the victim, never such _passion._

She couldn't kill Ultra Magnus because she was going to make sure he paid for what he did to her, her trine and all her lost friends.

No one noticed Splitwing's flexing fists as she entered the cargo bay.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"Do you understand your position, little Autobot?"

Snowblitz ignored his sneer and kept her optics trained on the crack in the floor.

"Hmph," he scoffed, "Your silence will not save you this time."

He raised his servo as if to strike her, but the white flyer ducked and rolled forward just in time to avoid being hit. Her face mask snapped into place with a vicious _sning _and she took off down the hall.

Snowblitz was tired, from both her physical wounds and waiting idly by for a rescue. She had never been known for her patience, and so, living up to her reputation was of no inconvenience to her. When neither Railhead nor Splitwing answered her hails, she decided to take matters into her own servos.

Lockdown had been trying to interrogate her up in his command platform, so she knew she had various escape routes. She also knew that she wasn't fast enough to out-fly his ship on her own—which was unfortunate—so she would need to find an escape pod or disconnect his 'trophy case' quickly and quietly—though that probably wouldn't happen because she had just set off every alarm in the place when she made a run for it.

"Find her and return her to me!" Lockdown howled angrily, his gruff voice reverberating off the walls. Snowblitz refused to slow down, she wouldn't give in to his intimidation. She needed to get out of there.

Her vents worked in overdrive to prevent overheating and she was close to panting. Her helm swung wildly to and fro, _where are they?!_

She was looking for the escape pods, she knew for fact they were in this corridor. She had passed through this hall enough times to recognize them. The pounding footfalls of her pursuers drew closer and her spark pulsed madly in response.

"I won't panic. I won't panic," she chanted under her breath as she finally came upon the many escape pods of the massive mining ship. She checked over her shoulder to be sure no one was an immediate threat to her, then proceeded to crack open the controls for the nearest pod. She hacked into the mainframe quickly and opened its doors.

Without a second thought, she leapt into the pod and pressed the emergency 'close and release' button on the wall. The panels closed with a hiss, just as two of Lockdown's goons slammed up against it.

"Ack!" Snowblitz yelped and jumped backwards, scared by their ugly mugs in the tiny window.

They growled to each other in Cybertronian, but their voices were too muffled by the panels; Snowblitz couldn't understand what they were saying.

Then they aimed their blasters at her pod.

"Oh, dear," Snowblitz muttered and turned to the controls of the pod just as the emergency release kicked in. The small vessel dropped away from the ship immediately, just as the two mecha fired. She grabbed the controls and thrust the throttle to its maximum output, the pod's engines whining in protest from the sudden abuse. A firm smirk was set on her face as the black ship moved to follow her, but she wasn't worried.

Snowblitz was already gone.


	13. Chapter XII

_CHAPTER XII: WE ARE FREE_

Splitwing didn't even get close to the stasis units before Optimus was ushering her towards the back, where the energon cubes were being stored. She gave him a suspicious look over her shoulder as he left, having not been able to see just who was in the pods, which made her wary of what—or who—he deemed fit to hide from her.

It was probably Ultra Magnus. Why else would he shunt her out of the bay so quickly?

Her vents expelled a gust of hot air loudly as she bent to assess the state of the refined energon cubes. None of them were in any serious condition and she reckoned they would be safe for bridge travel. With that thought, she accessed her remote link to her new console back at the base and opened the ground bridge to her coordinates, picking up several cubes in her arms.

_:I have opened a ground bridge and am transporting the cubes back to base,: _she told Ironhide and Optimus over their open line before pulling herself away from the connection, but not cutting out completely. Splitwing wasn't a paranoid femme by any means, just cautious. She wanted the two to have the ability to contact her should there be an emergency, of any kind.

_:Understood, report when you have cleared all the energon,: _Prime said.

She made an affirmative noise and passed through the bridge soundlessly.

Most men that were still in the main hangar had been quite startled by the sudden activation of the ground bridge, and one of them had even called his superior, claiming there was "a malfunction with the alien tech, sir".

They were then scared half to death when Splitwing trod through with heavy ped-falls and arms full of energon cubes. Some were used to the purpose of the ground bridge, but to those who were newer, it seemed like something right out of a science fiction novel. A teleportation device was unheard of, it was impossible physics.

Yet, there one stood, inconspicuous and a simple hole in the wall.

Splitwing didn't care for the stares she received as she walked through the ground bridge, but there wasn't anything she could really do about it. She opted to remain casual and set the cubes by her console, returning back to the fallen vessel to grab more.

As she went through the bridge, she was mildly surprised to find Jazz holding a cube up to the ship's light, gently turning it in his servo as he examined its contents.

"Oh, hey, Spits. This looks like pretty good stuff, huh?" He said and grabbed another off the top of the pile to inspect it as well.

She shrugged indifferently, "Energon is energon. I was never partial to 'good stuff' or 'bad stuff'. We had what we were given, no questions, no complaints."

Jazz frowned, "What about before the war? Before Ultra Magnus? Never had high grade?"

She snorted, "I was hardly in my adult frame at that time. I couldn't possibly process high grade. I believe that I am quite possibly one of the youngest of our kind out there." Her spark stopped pulsing and her joints locked in place. She hadn't wanted _any _of the bots to know of her true age and she had just given a piece of the information away to the slagging _saboteur. _

Jazz's expression darkened into one of suspicion, "Just how old _were _you when ya joined the Autobots?"

Splitwing paused, remembering that day like it had happened only cycles ago. She had had her adult frame for mere vorns before joining. A frown marred her features, she had decided to get her adult frame early, which had put tremendous stress on her processor and caused her to take valuable extra time to figure out how to manipulate her new body.

As well as develop her debilitating glitch. It was certainly not one of her brightest decisions.

"Spits?" Jazz questioned in a concerned fashion, setting the energon cubes down and moving closer at her silence.

She started slightly at his approach and sighed softly while rubbing her helm, keeping her optics on the floor, as if she were both ailing from an ache and embarrassment. "I was… young, to say the least, but I can assure you that I am no youngling, not anymore."

Jazz gently grabbed her chin with his clawed servo and lifted her head so he could study her visor. He saw right through the strong façade it put up, seeing her weakness as if it was his own.

His own visor was dark, belying his innermost feelings. He saw the hurt and forlorn look on her face plates and felt terrible for asking about her age.

She felt his warm digits on her chin and couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spinal struts. He had such an accepting and welcoming persona that it was hard _not _to spill all her secrets, but she managed to hold her tongue—just.

"Spits, I _know _ya aren't a youngling. You've proven to me with yer words _and _yer fightin' skills that ya are most definitely a mature femme. I have no doubts in yer abilities," he gently stroked his thumb on the side of her cheek, unable to restrain himself. He understood better than most the desire to feel wanted and treated as a matured adult, and hoped that she wouldn't outright reject his subtle advances. He could help her, if she asked, and he wanted her to know it.

He liked her, and he didn't want to scare her off or put himself in a bad light. He didn't care how old she was—or young.

Splitwing gently cupped his servo with her own and squeezed it while lowering both their hands, "Thank you, Jazz—for understanding."

He gave her a crooked smile and returned her squeeze before releasing her servo all together.

Jazz turned and picked up an armful of energon cubes and strode confidently towards the ground bridge, whistling a happy tune, happily moving onto more light-hearted matters.

"Are ya comin'?" He called back to her.

Splitwing's brow rose a few inches, but she followed the saboteur all the same, grabbing some cubes off the pile. How he could switch emotion so quickly was bewildering, but she didn't bother questioning. Jazz was Jazz, she was learning.

With Jazz's help, they had the entire supply transported in less than a joor. He had, however, kept suggesting that they stop to have a refueling break and try out the new energon. She had rolled her optics and snorted, telling him that she had no desire to stretch out the menial task for any longer than she had to.

_:All energon has been transferred to the base,: _the femme reported and waited patiently for her next orders.

Optimus replied after a lengthy pause. _:Understood. We will return shortly, reset the ground bridge for the cargo bay.:_

She acknowledged his order and shut down the bridge, opening it back up quickly once she had input the correct set of coordinates. Jazz was leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chassis.

"So? What's the Boss Bot's order?" He rumbled and glanced down at a newer recruit who passed by them with a look of wonder on his face. Jazz wanted to scare the fellow for a laugh, but chose not to, lest he give the poor sap a heart attack. Humans were fragile.

Splitwing ran a quick diagnostic on the main console. All the results came back clear. "They will be coming back soon. He did not elaborate."

"Huh, not like 'im, is it?" Jazz mused and pursed his lip plates.

The grey femme shrugged haphazardly, "I wouldn't know."

"Aw, c'mon Spits! I know ya c'n read people! Tell me what yer thinkin'?" He urged and stepped over to her console, leaning over the board so he was right in her face.

She balked slightly by his sudden desire to be in her space, but did not move away. If he wanted to invade her space, she would return the favour. Splitwing wasn't vengeful by nature, but she was competitive when the situation called for it.

This time, it was called for.

Splitwing slowly leaned forward, until her olfactory sensor was nearly touching his. His vents had hitched ever-so-slightly; Splitwing barely caught the hiccup. She blew warm air over his face and cocked her head, just a little to the side, "Why don't you tell me, sa-bo-teur?"

His visor flashed a lighter blue.

She hummed quietly, "It _is _your specialty to know people, is it not?"

She swore she could see his eyes narrow and his visor darken a fraction. He was hesitant in his reply, but only to keep her attention on him. Jazz was enjoying her coy play, finding great satisfaction in the knowledge that he was the one breaking through her walls.

"Specialty, yes. I jus' like ta test everyone ev'ry once in a while," he smirked as his chest rumbled lowly in his reply, catching Splitwing off guard.

_"Awww!" _A sound clip of applause followed the chorused noise of a crowd cooing. Splitwing nearly jumped ten feet in the air, but easily kept her composure. Both she and Jazz turned to see Bumblebee clapping cheerfully and gazing at them with smiling eyes. His doorings were completely relaxed and he strode casually towards them, playing different cheesy clips of "oo"'s and "aw"'s as he approached.

Splitwing was surprised she had missed him coming through the ground bridge.

Jazz grinned cheekily at the yellow mech and slapped him playfully on the shoulder, "Well, aren't ya jus' in a happy li'l mood, eh 'Bee?"

The scout chirped cheerfully and shrugged, _"What's to say?—Gotta be happy!"_

Splitwing raised her brow slightly, but chose to return her attention mostly to the console before her, but kept an optic on the two mechs' interaction.

The silver saboteur chuckled amicably and leaned his hip against the console again, "So, 'Bee, what's the Big Boss bringin' back?"

Bumblebee shrugged again and glanced at Splitwing, _"Dunno—couldn't see over—his big head."_

Jazz smirked, "Ya mean he sent ya back ta base."

_"No!" _Bumblebee looked offended for a moment by Jazz's statement, but then shunted the air through his exhausts in a drawn-out sigh. _"Okay, yeah—still thinks—can't be an adult!"_

"Ah, it's alright, kid. He'll come 'round, he just doesn't like ta think that ya ain't a younglin' anymore," Jazz consoled Bumblebee, tapping his ankle joint affectionately with his own. "We all know he's got a soft spot fer ya, 'Bee. Yer almost his sparklin'."

Splitwing suddenly felt like she was intruding on a very personal conversation between friends.

_"-can't do much 'bout it—'til the cows come home," _the yellow scout shrugged his shoulders again in acceptance. He knew Optimus had practically adopted him at the beginning of the war, after his creators couldn't be tracked down. In reality, nearly the entire Autobot base had adopted him, even though he was in his adult frame at the time, he hadn't even been a youngling by Cybertronian standards back then. Bots had told him it was simply his youthful personality that drew people closer to him.

"Cows, huh? What about a femme?" Jazz winked at Bumblebee, "I'm sure Prime would see yer all grown up when he saw a pretty g'rl hangin' off yer arm!"

Bumblebee gave Jazz a deadpan look and his wings dropped in dismay. _"—no girls—left—want the baby bot."_

Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor and smacked the mech, "C'mon, 'Bee. Have a li'l faith in yerself! Spits, do ya think 'Bee's a baby bot?"

Splitwing froze under the sudden attention as Jazz sent her a shit-eating grin and Bumblebee gave her the fleeting look of a disheartened mech.

She blinked slowly, then turned to give Bumblebee her full attention, seeing that the younger mech had some confidence issues. "I, in no way, see you as a 'baby bot', Bumblebee. You are a skilled and capable fighter and I am honored that you were the first Autobot I met on this planet."

The scout's faceplates warmed considerably and he gurgled his thanks while avoiding looking at the femme. Jazz simply grinned widely and moved to give Bumblebee a pat between his doorwings, "See? I told ya, yer just as han'some and attractive as me!"

Bumblebee's shoulders shook slightly with a small laugh as he smacked Jazz and rolled his optics up to the ceiling.

"What? Ya don' think I'm han'some?" Jazz feigned a hurt look and put a clawed servo over his spark. "Spits, 'Bee doesn' think I'm han'some, tell 'im he's wrong!"

Splitwing blinked slowly once more, having been given the attention of the duo again—unwillingly. The only attention she was used to getting was negative; punishment. Mission accomplished; well done. Mission failed; prepare to be mentally barraged with every known weakness.

Then, she decided to play again just a little with Jazz. She knew he was trying to get her to open up and de-stress—she had noticed that Jazz did not like it when bots or humans got too tense—and perhaps he was in the right to push her into simply chatting. She hadn't been able to just talk with a couple friends in a very long time.

It had been even longer since she had had bots other than Snowblitz and Railhead to call 'friends'.

She would give it more of a try, she decided. Even from afar, Ultra Magnus was still toying with her mind, and she would let him go no further. His reign over her obedience had ended the moment Jazz and Bumblebee had found her. She was free. She could speak openly now, the others were safe. She had nothing to worry about.

Splitwing glanced at Jazz from the corner of her visor, but continued to tap quietly on the board. "That depends greatly on what Bumblebee and I consider to be 'handsome'. Perhaps neither of us think you to be anything other than 'Jazz'."

The silver spy saw the slight lilt in her lips and knew that she was subtly teasing him. He could not have been happier, getting her to invade his space _and _tease him in one day was quite a feat! He also noticed that she neither agreed nor disagreed with his question.

"Ya don' think I'm pretty?" He said with a smiling tone.

"You used the adjective 'handsome', not pretty. I can quite confidently say you are not pretty, Jazz," she answered truthfully with a flick of her wings.

"Ouch! I'm a very pretty mech! Awe, Spits, ya hurt my feelin's! Now ya have ta make it up to me," he smirked wickedly and tapped his talons on his forearms.

The steel grey femme raised a brow at Jazz, "Do I? I have never known a mech that wished to be referred to as '_pretty'_."

"Yep, ya do. Maybe I _like _ta be called pretty, stroke ma ego 'n such."

"Then I humbly apologize."

"Good. Ya still owe me."

"And what, Primus tell, would that entail?" She asked with narrowed optics.

"I'll think 'a somethin'."

"I never agreed to anything."

"Ya did. When ya didn' call me _pretty_."

"Would it sooth your armoring if I did?"

"Not anymore."

Bumblebee was trying his hardest, he really was, to hold back his laughter. He knew how Jazz worked, and he had never seen him tease another Autobot quite like this, let alone a femme. He suddenly realized that Jazz might've had some kind of budding feelings for her, and the way they seemed to go back and forth only made him want to howl in laughter.

It was adorable, cuter than even _him._ Jazz teased, sure, but he didn't go at it like _that. _He had also never seen Splitwing reciprocate any kind of humour like such in the short while she had been on base, and it was quite a nice surprise to see her let loose a little.

He finally could not hold it back any longer. Small snickers escaped him, then his doorwings flicked up tightly and his snickers grew into lively chuckles that echoed in the open hangar. The humans looked up quickly to see what the commotion was, and were mildly shocked to see that Bumblebee was not using clips or snippets from radio conversations—he was using his _real _voice.

Those that had been there longer knew that he had vocal problems, and it lightened their hearts considerably to see the young bot able to laugh without searching for something that mirrored his train of thought.

Jazz gave Bumblebee a patronizing glare with one brow cocked in a questioning manner, "An' what do ya find so funny?"

A couple soldiers near their pedes were laughing quietly, including Robert Epps. The solid, dark-skinned man grinned at Jazz and chuckled softly, "He's laughing at your antics, _Casanova_!"

Jazz raised both brows at the inclination and then he smirked slyly. He realized he was being called out for "teasing" with Splitwing, but he didn't really mind. Jazz wasn't one to shy away from the spotlight, however awkward it might prove to be.

"Ya ain't seen nothin' yet," he rumbled with a suggestive tip of his 'eyebrows'.

Epps and his group roared with laughter and he turned to point at the silver mech, "Can't wait to see how you _really _get moving!"

Splitwing wisely chose to exit _that _conversation and rolled her optics. Mechs were all the same, it did not matter what species they haled from. She froze, digits just inches above the board, taken aback by her dismissive behaviour. She hadn't given a second thought to turning away from them, like she would have a mere year ago.

Jazz was rubbing off on her. She smiled softly, she had been with the Autobots for only nine days, but things were going to be alright. She had her doubts, but… she was going to be alright.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Ratchet summoned Splitwing to the med-bay for two reasons. One: he was bringing Railhead out of stasis and deemed it fitting that the grey seeker be present. Two: Optimus had opened a comlink between them and asked that he distract Splitwing from her post at the main console. He was bringing back some stasis pods that he did not want her to see.

Thus, the seeker femme had arrived at the med-bay moments ago, a passive, inquisitive look on her face.

"What may I help you with, Ratchet?" She inquired curiously, striding through the doors with a swagger unique only to seekers.

The ambulance turned to meet the femme, "Good, you're here. I am pulling Railhead from stasis now, and I figured you would want to be here."

Splitwing's brow rose a few inches and she looked to the still Cybertronian on the corner berth, "Already? Has her glitch been fully repaired?"

The medical officer narrowed his eyes and pointed a threatening digit at her, "Do not doubt my abilities. Railhead will be fine, she will feel light-headed for a short time while she adjusts to her repair, but she is in full operational condition."

The femme's shoulders dropped in relief and her wings drooped heavily, "Thank Primus…"

Ratchet wanted to correct her, _I am not Primus, _but decided to let her be.  
Her exhausts cycled loudly, too loud for Ratchet's liking—seekers didn't usually vent that noisily. She then took a couple hesitant steps toward the unconscious copper coloured femme.

With a flick of his wrist across the screen of his datapad, Ratchet was once more looking at Railhead's vitals. Every system was running strongly and her processor was in perfect shape; now.

He moved over to Railhead and began to wake her up, unplugging the sedative line he had injected to one of her main energon arterial veins.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

It was foggy. Hazy. Dark. Something brushed her leg. It was slimy. Slick. Cold. Digits ghosted over her shoulders, leaving a frozen trail of energon in its wake. Her life was being sucked out through those digits. She could feel it. Death. That's what that was. Death had come for her at last.

The sweet, cold, bitterness of death was finally here. She could be welcome to soar to the Well and be forever at peace. Calm. Warm. Wanted. Content.

"_I did not give you permission to FAIL!" _

_Failure? Who said anything about failure? _She frowned. She hadn't failed. All would be well now. Failure was no longer an option. There was no difference between victory and defeat anymore. There were no winners and there were no losers in death.

"_You did not retrieve that data. Now your precious little sparkling must suffer for it."_

_Sparkling? Since when had there been a sparkling? _Age should not matter now.

She suddenly felt very uncomfortable. _Should she be hearing such things if she had fallen off-line? _

Something was not right. She was _not _in the Well.

"_I said get OUT! Insufferable femmes!" _

She did not like this. Something had gone terribly wrong. She knew that voice. She did not like that voice. That was a bad voice. Bad voice.

_Go away!_

"_Orders are orders, little femme. FOLLOW THEM!"_

She whimpered and froze as something curled tightly around her neck cables. What was going on here?

_No! _Her neck was squeezed, then crushed by the pressure of whatever had grabbed her. She thrashed in its grip, kicking wildly, hoping to strike something physical. This could not be happening.

_Not happening. _

_Not real. _

_Fake. _

Tendrils of frozen slime crept slowly over her armor, searching for a way in. She bucked harder, trying to escape its hold on her pulverized neck—but she did not feel that pain.

She felt the tentacles worm their way under her armor. She felt them coil around her joints, her cables, her relays—_everything. _They invaded every sense of her being while she struggled madly and screamed until she could no more. They forced their way through her preliminary armouring and under her protoform, wriggling excitedly, like worms, as they sought their purchase. They were all converging to one area, the centre of her being—her chest.

Her spark froze. They were after it. They wanted her spark. Cold horror filled her from head to toe, and she fought even harder. _They can't have it! Mine! MINE!_

Suddenly, it all stopped. The tendrils stopped squeezing her insides—stopped _suffocating _her. She could vent, barely—they were inside and blocking the system. She felt sick.

Then, blinding agony slammed through her body like a tidal wave. She shrieked until her vocal processor shorted out. Her spark exploded—at least it felt like it. Her optics no longer fed her processor the dark, hazy blackness she had seen moments ago. It was like someone had just poured smelted ore overtop her helm, then tore apart her nervous system with a jagged sword and stabbed her through the chassis with it—after pulling her apart.

She could feel it, see it and hear it. _Primus, make it stop! Please! _She would get on her knees and beg, but just couldn't. She was frozen in the cold fiery clutches of death—or something worse.

"_I will find you."_

The voice laughed maliciously.

"_You can never hide from your true master."_

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing watched in absolute shock as Railhead thrashed madly on the berth, pulling lines from her arms and screaming like a wild beast. In all her time alive, she had _never _seen a Cybertronian act like so.

Railhead was convulsing. She was panting like an earthen dog, her insides must have been overheating. Her optics were bright and on-line, but by Primus were they not the most horrifying sight—they blazed a white so pure, they were nearly blinding. Her fists flexed, clenching and unclenching, scraping the top of the berth and digging gouges into the malleable metal.

Her legs kicked into the air, slamming into the wall and crashing back to the berth. Her wings were flattened against the surface, moaning from the stress her weight was putting on them. Her mouth gaped—opening and closing with an audible clacking sound. She wheezed and gasped as if trying to speak, but nothing escaped her vocalizer.

Lubricant began to trickle from the corner of her mouth, signifying that something had ruptured in her neck.

It was then that Splitwing overcame her shock, having stood stock still for only mere seconds. Railhead was hurting herself, and Splitwing could not let it continue.

She leapt into the fray and grabbed for Railhead's helm, hoping that if the copper flyer saw a familiar face, she would cease her panic—if her white optics _could _see anything.

"I need to sedate her!" Ratchet barked from behind her.

Splitwing didn't answer, but instead leapt onto the berth to hold Railhead down with unfounded strength. She used her legs to pin the copper femme's hips to the berth, then wrestled with her servos to get them above her head. After a minute of struggling, Splitwing had Railhead's arms restrained near the top of the bed with one hand, with the other holding her chin forward.

Railhead stilled, seemingly frozen, staring up into Splitwing's azure visor.

Ratchet watched with wide optics and a confused processor, a sedative in hand should Railhead break into a fit again. He had no idea what was going on, so he whipped out his scanner.

"Railhead, look at me," Splitwing whispered softly, stroking Railhead's chin with her thumb. Flyers responded to touch, so she would give that comfort to her.

The big femme gasped quietly and her chest rose, but her optics remained white.

_:Prime—serious situation in med-bay! Get here _now_!: _Ratchet haled the Autobot leader with great fervour as he ran his scans.

"Railhead, listen to my voice. I am here. You are safe. It is safe. There is no danger, calm yourself," Splitwing hushed the panting flyer.

Railhead shuddered and slowly closed her optics, leaning her head back against the berth sluggishly. She took several, quick, deep breaths with the coaxing of Splitwing before her ventilation system began to run efficiently again.

"Calm, Railhead, settle," Splitwing murmured and rose off Railhead's hips so she could better see her optics.

The copper femme uttered something unintelligible as she exhaled through her mouth.

"What was that?" Ratchet lunged next to Railhead's helm as he ran a diagnostic on her processor and neck—only a simple rupture, one small and simple enough that Railhead's repair system would take care of.

Splitwing shot a dark look at the medic for snapping at her friend, but quickly turned her attention back to Railhead.

Ratchet didn't see it.

"Don't… let 'im… get me… don' wanna go…" she whispered fretfully and her face crumpled into a pained and fearful expression.

"Hush, dear Rail', he will _never _get you," Splitwing reassured and released Railhead's wrists. She then pulled the thick flyer up into an embrace, holding her close to her spark. Railhead nuzzled into the heat, seeking that comfort that could only be found in the warmth of another's heart. She shivered slightly and Splitwing held her tighter.

Prime thundered into the med-bay to find the sight of the two flyers hugging closely together and Ratchet standing a little ways off, studying his datapad with a bewildered expression.

He strode over quickly, "What has happened?"

Ratchet shook his head, "I—I don't know. I woke Railhead using all standard protocols and procedures, and when her processor came on-line she had some kind of reaction."

"Reaction?" Optimus asked and glanced at the two flyers again. Splitwing had set Railhead back onto the berth and was climbing down herself.

"It appeared as though she was having some kind of seizure, but there were no foreign substances in her systems to elicit such a response. Her optics were white and she wasn't making a sound, it was like someone had a hold of her throat," Ratchet replied and tapped something on the 'pad, looking up to the exhausted femme. His tone dropped several octaves, to a near whisper, "I have never seen such a thing, Optimus, it was… frightening, to put it bluntly."

The great Cybertronian eyed Railhead curiously and laid a hand on the medic's shoulder, "It seems to be alright now, old friend. Has anything appeared on your scanners?"

The ambulance shook his head slowly and looked back to his datapad, "Nothing, she is in peek physical condition, nothing out of sorts in her processor either."

The semi hummed thoughtfully, "That is… intriguing. We must keep a close watch on her then, lest it happens again."

"I was going to say as much, I'll keep her in med-bay for at least a megacycle to run diagnostics on her systems," said Ratchet.

Splitwing listened absently to the conversation between the two mechs. _Nothing in her systems? What on earth could have caused this? What _in _the galaxy? _

"Hey Spits…" Railhead mumbled as her optics slowly brightened, this time their normal cerulean blue. Splitwing was relieved.

She cocked one of her brows and her wings twitched, "Have you decided to also call me 'Spits'?"

"Yeah…" She sounded tired, as if she had just fought Megatron himself and been pounded into the ground, but Splitwing heard a flicker of a smile in her tone.

Railhead was glad to be awake—_why? _

"How are your systems running?" Splitwing asked while carefully reattaching the lines Railhead had pulled out.

"… Great. Can I go now?" She murmured and rolled over to face the rest of the med-bay. She grumbled slightly at the change of position and rubbed her helm.

"What's wrong? Railhead?" Splitwing pulled Railhead's face up so she could see her optics.

The copper femme blinked forcefully, "Just a helm-ache, what hit me?"

Splitwing shook her head, "I don't know."

"Huh, well I don't think I want to remember," Railhead felt around her throat tentatively and sighed quietly when she found nothing damaged. Her processor had told her nothing was wrong, but she need to be sure.

Splitwing noticed Railhead's motion, but said nothing.

Ratchet moved over and interrupted the two, "Railhead? How does everything feel?"

"Horrible," she grumbled and flopped over onto her back, careful not to catch her wings at a bad angle.

"Hm, what do you remember?"

"Uh…" she drawled and squinted at the ceiling. "Glitching, seeing Ultra Magnus," she shuddered slightly at the name, "then nothing until waking up. No—I remember pain. Lots of pain, something was after… my spark, I think." The flyer trembled on the berth and Splitwing gently stroked her arm.

Optimus and Ratchet shared a distressed look, but made no comment. They had not heard of someone responding to a glitch repair like Railhead had. It was troubling.

"Can I recharge?" Railhead asked in a small voice. She felt inexplicably fatigued, and as much as she never wanted to sleep again, her body needed it. She would be strong, she was no longer a sparkling.

"Yes, you may," Ratchet said softly and all three Cybertronians watched the femme fall quickly into stasis.

Splitwing frowned dangerously, if she found out that someone was behind this attack on her trine-mate, she would kill them.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Hello readers! I am so very sorry for the delay of this chapter! I was swept up in educational matters and could not get this pushed out quickly. Thank you all for being so incredibly patient and sticking with me, and for that I have made this chapter at least a thousand words longer than usual. _

_Please enjoy! _

Some Cybertronian terms:

_Klick: 1.2 minutes_

_Breem: 8.3 minutes_

_Joor: 1 hour_

_Megacycle: 93 hours—3.875 days_

_Orn: 13 days_

_Decacycle: 7.5 months_

_Solar Cycle: 1 year_

_Vorn: 83 years_


	14. Chapter XIII

_CHAPTER XIII: WELCOME TO EARTH_

It was four days after Railhead's awakening that Ratchet had finally pinned down Splitwing for repairs.

"Don't think I don't see those pede-prints in your chest plates. Sit."

Some days, Splitwing hated how observant medics were. Ratchet's sharp optics had finally seen the damage Starscream had inflicted upon her and he had restrained her to medical until he repaired her. She had been stuck with the grouchy mech for two joors while he pounded out the dents in her armor and replaced a few worn energon and lubricant lines.

Most of the time, she sat with her elbows on her knees while gazing at Railhead across the bay. The copper femme had not made a sound since falling into stasis four days prior and Splitwing supposed that was good, she needed her rest.

"How you've been gallivanting around base for days looking like this without much notice, I will never know," Ratchet grumbled moodily as he reattached Splitwing's right breast-plate armor. He was pleased, though, that she had not made an effort to heal herself, instead she waited until he was free to do so.

"I was not severely damaged, like Drift and Crosshairs. They needed your full attention and I had my duties to fulfill," Splitwing responded softly, even though she knew Ratchet had been rhetorical in his statement. She cocked her head to the side and her wings hitched up slightly, "When will she wake?"

"Railhead?" Ratchet glanced at the femme fleetingly over his shoulder, then attached Splitwing's left breast-plate with swift, practiced hands.

The femme nodded silently.

"I cannot say, I still haven't figured out what affected her system so drastically, so she could recharge for another megacycle, maybe longer," he said and glanced at his datapad. While Splitwing had busied herself with observations of Railhead, he had run a discreet scan of her spark. The fracture had widened by only the smallest of margins, but it still worried the seasoned medic. However, there were grasping tendrils present in this scan that had been absent an orn ago.

It would seem that Splitwing's spark was searching for a mate, and had found a _very _strong suitor, or those wispy tendrils would not have been there. Ratchet smiled knowingly, _good_. If her spark pushed her enough, there was an even lesser chance of him having to intervene.

He turned back to the seeker, "You are free to go and clean your armor."

She dipped her helm in a respectful nod and slid off the berth, "Thank you, Ratchet."

"Don't thank me," he harrumphed, "next time come in as soon as you attain an injury. Even if I cannot repair it right away, I need to keep a log of who is injured when and how badly."

She nodded again and took a couple steps towards the door, "Call for me when she is waking, please."

"Of course," he rolled his optics. He had wanted her there the first time, hadn't he? Why not have Splitwing there for round two? Ratchet moved leisurely back to his desk to sort through his datapads. "Do not forget you have two orns," he called in passing, as a simple reminder in the case she had forgotten.

The femme froze mid-stride, wings hiking up straight to become tightly pressed together.

"I am only looking out for you, as hard as it may seem," he uttered quietly. He really did worry for her—fractured sparks were nasty business.

It felt like a joor of silence passed between the medic and the communications officer, but it had only been a couple kliks. The grey seeker vented heavily and her shoulders dropped with her wings, "I am well aware, but thank you for the reminder."

She had nearly whispered, but Ratchet still picked up on the distressed note in her tone.

He left his notes for the femme, walking cautiously closer to her, feeling not unlike a mouse creeping up on a sleeping lion. He knew what Splitwing was capable of, but he wouldn't allow himself to fear her. She was young, wounded, and under duress; he would be there for her as long as she needed it.

"Have you met everyone on base yet?" He asked gently.

She turned slowly so as to meet him face-to-face. Her visor was not an extreme blue or white, so he took that as a good sign.

"I have not, but I do not know if I need to," she murmured and looked to Ratchet's knees, losing herself for a moment in thought.

He smiled encouragingly, "Have you decided then?"

She shrugged, which was an odd action to see on a bot with wings, "Nothing has been said yet, and there are many variable to consider."

"Which other variables?" Ratchet asked, recessively hoping he hadn't come off as rude.

The dark steel-coloured flyer took no notice of his tone, but instead looked up into his optics challengingly. "I am a seeker."

"Yes, we are aware of that," he responded in a low tone, praying to Primus she would not become aggravated. He despised dealing with aggravated femmes as much as he disliked both sets of twins-which was quite a bit.

"Seekers are always a part of a trine."

"Yes, I also know that."

"Trines can be familial or intimate," said Splitwing as she crossed her arms. She was going to give the medic a quick run-down on seekers and their mates.

Ratchet nodded without missing a beat, but said nothing.

"I have no familial or intimate trine, therefore when I take a mate there is a strong chance my spark will call for another at some point in time. Seekers are naturally compassionate beings, and we harbor such strong emotions, a second mate is often a common occurrence."

Ratchet's brow rose, "Because of the seeker dynamic, yes, but then what are Railhead and Snowblitz to you? Are they not your trine-mates?"

She shook her head, "No, they are not. They are mere flyers, aerialbots, not seekers. They do not have the capacity to hold a trine bond. Railhead and Snowblitz are my closest allies, my friends, but they are not truly my trine-mates. I may refer to them as so, because I feel that they are such, but physically we are no trine; simply three misfit flyers."

Realization dawned on Ratchet, clicking into place. "You need a mate who would accept another mech as your own."

Splitwing nodded solemnly, "How many grounders do you know who like to _share_?"

Ratchet paused, but then grinned slyly with twinkling optics, "One or two."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Ironhide grumbled lowly as he pushed one of the two levitating stasis pods through the ground bridge. The hover tech was not damaged, so he was able to simply push it along, instead of having to carry it.

"Slagger, still owes me creds," he muttered and waited in the empty hangar for Optimus. He glanced around, and saw that there were in fact no humans about. Optimus had ordered them out while they brought in the stasis pods, just in case the transport caused a malfunction in the stabilizers and there were… explosive problems.

The black-armored mech looked through the glass at the bot in the pod, glad that there was another to join the earthen Autobot ranks, even if it _was _him. They could always use another pair of hands, especially the set of a saboteur's.

He turned back to the ground bridge as the Prime passed through it, towing a pod behind him.

"Nothing broken here," Ironhide reported and shifted so he could see the Cybertronian in Optimus's pod.

Prime nodded, "Good, we'll take them to room one-twelve, next to the med-bay so that Ratchet can run an evaluation on them when they wake."

"Gotcha, am I to assume we're the only ones' who know of 'em?" Ironhide asked as he pushed his pod forward and towards room one-twelve.

"As of now, yes, but we will integrate them into the base once they have been medically cleared," Optimus said and followed the black mech.

They arrived at one-twelve shortly thereafter, having rushed in silence, hoping to avoid detection. Optimus keyed the door open and the pair entered swiftly, setting the pods up vertically against the far wall. Once they were still, both Ironhide and Optimus deactivated the hover stabilizers and the pods slowly dropped to the floor.

Then, they initiated the thawing sequence. A control panel next to the "frozen" bots' flashed from yellow to green and each containers' vital readings picked up.

"Should we have done 'em one at a time?" Ironhide mused as he tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest—careful of his cannons.

"It would have made little difference," Optimus answered after a short pause.

A low clicking signalled the last stage of "thawing" and the front panel folded into itself bottom to top.

There, two rather unharmed Autobots stood, just coming into consciousness.

"Ngh," the one on the right groaned and shifted forwards, his bright, red armor a stark contrast to the grey interior of the stasis pod. He lifted a sluggish hand to rub his face-plates, trying to wipe away his exhaustion.

He took a shaky step out of the pod, nearly tripping on the lip. Optimus jerked forwards to catch him, but the mech caught himself.

"Quite graceful, as usual," Ironhide retorted with a smirk.

"Ironhide," the red mech slurred slightly as his vocalizer calibrated to the English language, "it is good to see you."

The Topkick snorted humorously, "Only until you get into training."

The red mech scoffed silently, as it would not be proper to do so verbally, and straightened his back, stretching the cables in his shoulders and back struts. He shifted to acknowledge the other bot in the room, and nodded his head respectfully to his leader. "Greetings, Prime."

"And to you, Mirage," Optimus dipped his helm, "how are your systems running?"

The saboteur frowned slightly, "Optimally, why do you ask?"

"Do you remember Drift and Crosshairs?"

"No," he shook his head, "The last I remember is leaving Yoriche after a successful mission, headed to rendez-vous with Ultra Magnus in another galaxy. I—I was aboard the _Impressionist _and ordered into a stasis pod for the duration of the flight… but I take it something went wrong."

Optimus shook his head, "I do not know, but you were found in the destroyer _Veridian_."

"_Veridian_? I have heard very little of the vessel," Mirage's frown deepened. "Was that not the destroyer assigned to Ultra Magnus and his crew?"

The Prime nodded his head, checking to see that the other Autobot was coming out alright: he was. Ironhide made sure he was not unbalanced.

"Yes, it was. There is much to discuss with you, Mirage, but it will wait until you've refueled," Optimus said and moved to greet the other bot. "Prowl, I do not believe I have ever been more relieved to see a tactician."

The black and white mech flexed his digits experimentally, but stopped at the voice of his leader. "Prime, please tell me where I am?"

Optimus smiled ever-so-little, glad to have another of his friend's back. "You are on the planet Earth, habited mostly by organic organisms known as humans, they are our allies."

Prowl nodded and flexed his doorwings a little to relieve the stiffness in them. "How did I come about Earth?"

"You and Mirage were found in stasis pods aboard the _Viridian _by Drift and Crosshairs, how you both got there we have yet to discover," Optimus explained and did a visual check of the second-in-command. He seemed in perfect condition, though a little scratched up. There was a shallow gash on one of his doorwings, and Optimus wondered how viciously the SIC would have attacked his assaulter—doorwings were exceedingly sensitive.

Prowl nodded thoughtfully, "Indeed, there is much to discuss."

Optimus gave the Praxian a small smile and placed a large, armored hand on his shoulder, "We do, yes, but not until you have been assessed by Ratchet and have refueled."

"My tanks _are_ very low," Prowl hummed. Mirage came up beside him and agreed rather eagerly, quite unlike his usual stoic self.

"I'm _quite _empty, may we have energon first?" The bright red mech asked.

The semi shook his head slowly, "Ratchet will decide when you may fuel."

The saboteur dipped his helm in respect and acknowledgement.

Prime opened his mouth to say something, but stiffened for a split-second. Then, he raced out of the room, leaving three mechs to stare baffled at the entrance.

"Ya scared him off, good job _'Raj,_" Ironhide sneered playfully and checked Mirage in the shoulder with his own.

Mirage raised a brow in sarcastic belief at the weapons specialist, "You are sure it wasn't your gaudy paint? When _was _the last time you cleaned yourself?"

Mirage wasn't a confrontational mech, by any means, nor was he one to normally engage in verbal play. However, it had been so long since he'd seen another Autobot, he gave in to the urge and retaliated against the gruff, cannon-toting Ironhide.

The black armored mech scoffed, "I just came from training, before we picked _you _up, of course my armor's dirty."

Mirage shrugged, another action he was not prone to doing, but he was tired and hungry—so why not? "I am merely an unbiased party, making a comment."

Ironhide rolled his bright blue optics, "Of course you were."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

It was not until five joors later that Prowl and Mirage were back in full health, fed with nutrient-laden, medical grade energon and standing in the security office. Ratchet had detained them for an excessively long amount of time, but he claimed it had been necessary.

Optimus had returned to room one-twelve not too long after he had shot out of there, a semi-troubled look on his face. He had corrected his expression quickly, but Ironhide, Mirage and Prowl had already seen. Ironhide had, of course, demanded an explanation, and Prime had promised one after the other two had been looked after.

While Ratchet had pulled Prowl and Mirage into a side room, not visible to anyone in the main area, Optimus had taken the time to share pieces of a specific data-package he had received an orn earlier with Ironhide. He did not want the entire base to become aware of Ultra Magnus just yet, but Ironhide was a high ranking officer and a trusted friend—he needed to know.

_Ironhide's optics darkened and he glowered at Optimus, "How did this happen?"_

_ Optimus sighed heavily, "I do not know, Ironhide."_

_ "He's been allowed to _take _our supplies, _our energon! _This is inexcusable. What he did to those femmes is inexcusable," the gunner growled lowly while his optics blazed angrily. As he riled himself up, pieces of his armor flared outwards, showing he was not be trifled with. "He took _our _cadets, _our _young, and turned them into his personal errand-runners."_

_ The Prime nodded sagely, "He did. I know you are angry—"_

_ "—Angry? Oh, no," Ironhide chuckled darkly and cracked his knuckles, "I'm not angry, I am _furious_. When I see that slagger I am going to tear him to pieces."_

_ "I have not yet decided what course of action to take," Optimus bowed his helm in deep thought, "but I will not have him killed at first sight."_

_ Ironhide's cannons whirred to life, spinning in his agitation, "Then I better not be there because I won't be able to hold myself back."_

_ "I know you are more careful than that, Ironhide, but I will be sure to not have you on the greeting team should he make his arrival known," Optimus said quietly. _

_ The gunner grunted roughly and rolled his shoulders. There was a still quiet as his cannons powered down—slowly—and Optimus waited for the murderous gleam to fade from his optics. _

_ It took a few kliks, but Ironhide's armor settled and he eventually calmed down. He huffed loudly, "So, just what _is _the plan?"_

Now, Ironhide stood with Prowl, Mirage and Prime in the security office, arms crossed agitatedly across his chest plates.

"Prowl, you are here because you are my acting second-in-command, Mirage, you are here because of matters that occurred a very long time ago," Optimus began and turned on the console they were surrounding.

Mirage raised his brow and Prowl remained still, silently assessing the situation. Ironhide was frowning, still brooding over the information Optimus had shared with him.

"Over a decacycle ago, we received a transmission from a femme claiming to be an Autobot cadet," he said. Mirage's optics flashed brightly and Prowl frowned. "We all know that cadets have no longer existed for many vorns, but we were able to verify her voice print. She reported she would be arriving to earth as soon as she could, but we lost all contact with her shortly thereafter."

Optimus brought up a three-dimensional, holographic image of Splitwing on the round console, closely watching Mirage.

"Primus!" The red mech breathed lowly and took a step forward. His blue optics were wide and his mouth was open in shock, arms lax at his side. "What is her designation?"

Optimus glanced at Prowl, and saw he was on the verge of glitching, his visor having been retracted and his optics were glowing a near-white. His digits twitched slightly and his wings flicked, but he managed to stand on his pedes.

_Why would Prowl react like that? Did he know the femme?_

"Her designation is Splitwing, and I know that she was a former student of yours at the Autobot Communications-Espionage Academy," the Prime said, giving the red mech an unreadable look.

Ironhide caught the glare, and his optics narrowed.

Mirage gaped for a moment before closing his mouth and blinking slowly, "I… I have not seen her since…"

He trailed off, staring deep in thought at Splitwing's image. Ironhide scowled, "Since what?"

Mirage didn't even look at him, lost in his thoughts as he told them the tale of how he had ordered her out of sparring until her glitch was under control or repaired. Optimus already knew the story, but neither Prowl nor Ironhide did, so he let the saboteur tell it again-from his perspective.

"I had went to her quarters the next day when she hadn't shown up for her in-class training, but I—she was gone. Not a trace of her left, not even her friend Laywing had heard from her. Several other cadets were also missing, but I was sworn to secrecy by Ultra Magnus, he claimed their disappearance was a result of some underground Decepticon activity."

Mirage did not see the flare of aggression rise in Ironhide's face, since Optimus shot a reprimanding look at the black gunner.

"I, of course, could not accept that as a reason, so I investigated on my own time."

Optimus grit his denta, but relaxed himself immediately, "What did you discover?"

Mirage clenched his fists and his entire frame tensed, "Absolutely nothing. They all just _vanished. _I searched for answers, but not one cadet or instructor had any information. I wondered for a while what really had happened, still do occasionally."

Optimus hummed, "Did Ultra Magnus give you any other data?"

The red mech frowned darkly, "No, he asked me if I had seen them recently, what our last interaction was like, where they went, what their behavior had been like; simple questions. He told me he was exploring their 'cases' and that I could not tell another—he did not want the other cadets to become worried. It was a 'highly classified investigation'."

There was quiet in the office for a long time while they digested Mirage's tale. A slight creaking sound was heard as Ironhide gripped his forearms with such force his armor began to protest the pressure.

Optimus broke the tenseness suddenly, "Thank you, Mirage, for sharing this."

He nodded in return, seemed to think for a moment, then asked, "Would it be alright if I spoke with her?"

The Prime frowned and shook his great helm, "Not at the moment. I shall speak with her first, since she has shared rather sensitive information with me—about you."

The mech born of nobility appeared taken aback, "Pardon? Sensitive information?"

Sparing a glance at Prowl, Optimus saw that the SIC was watching dismissively with a stoic expression, but his frame was too tight to fool the Autobot leader. He figured Prowl would be fine to hear what he had to say, since he would end up telling him anyhow.

"She has been under the impression that you favoured another femme so greatly that you chose to neglect her training, as such you barred her from sparring. After what she has been through, I do not want you to meet with her right away," the Prime spoke softly. He knew that Mirage wasn't a vicious mech in his spark, and that he could not have much to do with Ultra Magnus, but because Splitwing's last memory of him was not particularly… desirable, he wanted to introduce them slowly.

Mirage scoffed, "I favoured _none _of my students; they were all given fair treatment!"

"Well, that's not the way she sees it," Ironhide growled, catching Mirage off guard. He had forgotten the mech had been there—which was not like Mirage.

"Even so, this is a fragile situation that needs much discussion and more analysis. You are free to roam as you wish, Mirage, but avoid the main hanger and popular corridors," Optimus ordered.

His shoulders dropped a few inches, "So I am to hide from her."

Prime froze, but then nodded once, "Until I have a way to ease your presence to her, yes."

**ORDER VYNYAN**


	15. Chapter XIV

_CHAPTER XIV: HAVE A LOOK_

"Splitwing, I would like for you to meet my tactician officer and first lieutenant, Prowl."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Her day had begun as any other. Awake from stasis. Fuel on what energon had been provided. Move off to determine the next mission. She had never expected to spend the next three days nursing a wounded Autobot in the middle of a warzone. _

_She approached the large, silver door that would lead her into what she called the "war room". After every visit to the War Room, they would be given a new assignment, which had been occurring more and more frequently in the past vorn. She had barely managed to recover from her wounds from her last mission before Ultra Magnus summoned her—and only her—which was highly unusual. It meant she was to go on a solo mission—highly dangerous and top secret._

_Sending a questioning ping to whomever was inside, she stood quietly to await a response. She wondered briefly if Snowblitz had managed to repair that nasty gouge in her side on her own. The stubborn femme had refused any assistance from Splitwing or Railhead. _

_:Enter.: Ultra Magnus' voice resounded over her private communications link. Her wings flicked slightly at the intrusion of his voice inside her helm, but he had demanded the codes to their private links. Had she not given it up, he would have killed little Sandflare. _

_Splitwing almost hated the maternal instinct of a carrier. _

_She strode submissively into the room, keeping her helm down and wings lowered in deference to Ultra Magnus. She refused, however, to lift her visor for him—he did not seem to care._

_He did not acknowledge her entrance physically, but began to speak as soon as she stood tensely next to the display table. _

_ "__New assignment, Splitwing. You are to infiltrate the Neutral camp called 'Xeloks' and retrieve any and all information pertaining to a mech called 'Kickup'. He is then to be destroyed."_

_A three-dimensional image of the neutrally-coloured mech popped up on the display table, spinning slowly so Splitwing could see the entirety of his physique. He was stout; squat. Easily eliminated with a quick flick of her swords behind his neck. He was heavily set, definitely formatted for heavy-duty work. His shoulders were square; set far apart and away from his torso, giving her the laughably easy opportunity to remove his arms. _

_But she had no desire to. Kickup was not a mech she wanted to mess with. He was no simple mission; get-in, get-out. She could not simply thrust her sword into his neck._

_He was Railhead's biological sire. _

_Splitwing's fists clenched tightly and her wings tensed. Her vents hitched and wheezed as her systems hiccupped. She ground her denta and glared heatedly at the image of Kickup, wishing with all her spark that it was Ultra Magnus._

_ "__Do you understand mission parameters?" Magnus asked, his optics narrowing at the distressed demeanor Splitwing had taken. He would not allow for distractions, regardless of past happenings. He knew that Kickup was an acquaintance of the seeker before him, and also the sire of one of her close allies within his ranks—which was why he made sure that only Splitwing would go after him. Snowblitz was yet too soft-sparked and it would not be as rewarding if any other of his soldiers completed this mission. _

_It had to be Splitwing. _

_ "__Yes sir, but, _why_? What has he done?" It was always a risk; asking him a question of any kind often ended in pain. Although, to determine the reasoning behind Ultra Magnus' thinking was not entirely a challenge to Splitwing. He was devious, but she was smart._

_He shunted air from his vents in an angry, hissing snort, "You question my orders?" He made a move towards her threateningly, a sneer-like snarl on his features._

_She stepped back, her spark flaring suddenly in fright. "No, sir, I do not." He was much larger than her in size, she could not defeat him; no matter how much she wished she had the ability and will to. _

_Her wings hitched high up her shoulders, telling Ultra Magnus that she did not like that he moved towards her. _

_He chuckled sinisterly to himself, she was too easy to set off. Perhaps over more time she would get used to his commanding presence—and quit asking questions._

_ "__That is what I thought. You will leave within a joor." _

_She dipped her head in a nod, though she had no respect for him, and turned on her heel to leave the room. _

_Just as she set foot out the door, Ultra Magnus called, "Oh, and Splitwing, not a word to either of them."_

_The armor of her palms groaned._

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Prowl frowned. Of all the teams that Prime could have left him, it had to be Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Jazz. _

_Jazz, he had less of a problem with. The silver saboteur was a little sweet on him, but Prowl could not help but return such attraction. He liked that Jazz was Jazz, uncaring of what others thought of him. He admired the spy's confidence for what it was. _

_However, on a mission like this, the distraction that was 'Jazz' was likely to get him killed. _

_If the twins bickering did not get the job done first. _

_ "__I swear to Primus, if you call me 'Streaker' or 'Sunny' one more time, I will rip off your arms and claw your face with your own servos!" _

_ "__What else am I supposed to call you? 'Sunstreaker'? Yeah, because that's practical! Do you know how long it takes to say your name?"_

_ "__Do I look like I care?"_

_ "__You need a shorter name, and because you've gotta plug in your aft, I'm gonna give you one."_

_ "__Don't you dare."_

_ "__Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, if I need to ask you to remain silent again, I _will_ have you suspended at the end of this assignment."_

_Jazz snickered. _

_Prowl sent him a patronizing glare, to which Jazz threw a wink back at him, and turned back to scowl at the Frontliner twins. _

_ "__Sorry, Prowl," said an unapologetic Sideswipe. Sunstreaker grunted and sneered back at Prowl, despite their rank difference. _

_The black and white mech scowled deeply at the pair and paid them one more scathing glare before returning his focus to the task at hand. _

_Provide security for an envoy of neutrals heading to the Xenoks camp. _

_Prowl was not a bot of spontaneity, so he had their security detail planned down to a tee. Provided Sunstreaker could keep his cool and Sideswipe quiet long enough for the neutral group to reach the camp, Prowl had calculated a low-risk Decepticon element._

_They would usher the group through the ruins of Xenoks to the heart of the once-magnificent city, then evacuate before their presence or that of the new neutrals was noticed by Decepticons. _

_The Praxian Autobot paused as he turned a corner, his doorwings picking up a slight disturbance in the air. He gave the others a silent signal to halt. _

_The neutrals whispered nervously. They clung to one another in fear of what Prowl may have detected, sharing wide-eyed looks. _

_Prowl's left doorwing twitched, sensing a stronger vibration in the air. _

Something was over there.

_He whirled suddenly with his cannon on-line and primed, aimed at the filthy shambles of an old refueling establishment. The walls were littered with scorch marks from past plasma blasts and an entire corner had caved in. It was once a tall building, but the top floors had been shorn off by the battle between flying Cybertronians. _

_It looked entirely deserted. _

_Prowl knew better. _

_A small window on what was now the top floor was covered, but the tactical expert could see the dim light of a charging cannon. _

_:Frontliners, Jazz, get the Neutrals to safety!: Prowl ordered just as the first shot was fired. _

_He easily dodged the blast, returning fire as the twins and Jazz raced off with the Neutral party._

_:Will ya be a'right?: Jazz asked as they disappeared down another street. _

_Prowl rolled to avoid another plasma shot and dove behind a large pile of rubble. _

_:I will be fine,: he replied and shut off the link. He needed to concentrate on the fight, lest he be harmed._

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Splitwing clambered quietly through the destruction of Xenoks. Her wings would shiver every so often, whether from the cold or the feel the city gave her, she did not care to know. Being that Xenoks was in an area with a rather warm climate, she didn't need to guess as to what bothered her most. _

_Normally, she would have preferred to simply fly through the air until she found her target, but this mission required a little more finesse. She had to be completely undetected—not one soul was to know she was in Xenoks, not ever. _

_She tip-toed down a darkened street._

CLASH

CLANG

THOOM!

_Splitwing ducked immediately upon hearing the clashing of blows. She held her wings close to her back so they would not be clipped by something; the action was mostly instinct. _

_A weapon discharged ahead of her, drawing her attention further. Her visor darkened to an azure blue shade as she nearly crawled forward, keeping every sensor trained on the way around the corner. _

_Jumping to stand next to what was left of a wall, Splitwing peered carefully around the corner. _

_Two Cybertronians were fighting. One was a grounder, a Praxian if his doorwings were anything to go by, and the other a flyer. _

_The Praxian was in bad shape. He was scratched up and leaking energon like a facet. His right arm looked to be disabled and there was no light emanating from his optics. _

_Splitwing zoomed her vision in on his face and saw that he had a visor, but it had been shattered with his optics. _

_He was fighting blind._

_The dark, green flyer roared thunderously and flipped the Praxian onto his back—none-too-gently if the poor bot's cry was anything to judge. She heard a horrible _crunch _as he landed—he'd fell on his doorwings. _

_Her spark flared angrily at his pain. _

_Splitwing looked back at the flyer. In the center of his broad, green chassis, she caught the Decepticon insignia. It was Skyquake. _

_She growled lowly, Skyquake was a bully with no processing power—at least his brother had a _spark.

_The green brute leered down at what Splitwing had figured out was a black and white Autobot. He threw a hard punch into the Praxian's belly, making Splitwing cringe. _

_It was with little thought that Splitwing began to scale the crumbling wall. She lithely slithered over the top and crawled through the rubble, her visor flashing red as the Autobot was beaten into the road. _

_ OV _

_Skyquake was enjoying himself immensely. It was not every day that he had the opportunity to pound some dents into Prime's tactical expert. He grinned as he scraped his sharpened talons across Prowl's chassis, adding more pressure over the Autobot's spark. _

_ "__You will die today, Autobot," Skyquake sneered, his crimson optics glowing like demons. _

_Prowl made some kind of grinding sound, which Skyquake took as a growl, and laughed loudly. _

_The large flyer reared back, preparing to give the final blow, when he was struck from behind. _

_ OV _

_Splitwing launched herself at Skyquake, feeling the rush of air blow across her armor as she plummeted towards the Decepticon. She readied her talons and crashed into him, tearing at his sensitive wings. _

_He roared in anger and twirled on his heel, thrashing and bucking wildly, trying to throw Splitwing off his back. She held on with all her strength, raking her claws along his wings and ripping apart the wiring she could expose. _

_Skyquake howled in agony as she pulled out his energon lines. He leapt backwards and slammed his back and Splitwing into a wall, crashing through it. Splitwing grunted from the impact. Her hold was loosened and Skyquake managed to shake her off, throwing her body across the road. _

_Splitwing shook off Skyquake's attack and stood up quickly, pulling her swords from subspace and charging the large flyer. He growled and took a defensive stance, bending his knees and dropping his weight. _

_She dodged to the left as he struck out with his talons, but he whirled around to grab her wings and toss her away. _

_She landed heavily next to the frighteningly still Autobot. Splitwing paid him a quick glance before Skyquake was on her again, slamming his fists into her chest plates. Air was propelled from her ventilation system from the hit and her body struggled to suck it back in. _

_ "__Who are you?" Skyquake sneered as he laid his large pede on her chassis, applying pressure. _

_Splitwing bared her denta at the Decepticon, "I am no one."_

_ "__You will be," he chortled and primed his cannon. _

_The steely-grey femme glared him in the optics, a small smirk growing on her face plates. _

_ "__Why are you smiling, femme?" Skyquake growled._

_With lightning quick speed, Splitwing pierced his belly with one of her twin swords. She snarled and pushed it as hard as she could, feeling the blade cut into his thick spinal strut. _

_Skyquake wailed an anguished cry before sloppily pulling himself off the blade and stumbling backwards. He held a servo to his wound as he fell to his knees, gaping open-mouthed. Splitwing heard an ominous creak as Skyquake's spinal strut moaned under the pressure of his large torso. _

_His vents gasped while he sent one last glare at Splitwing before transforming and flying off, leaving a trail of energon and smoke. _

_Splitwing sighed quietly, the air having finally returned to her vents. She laid her helm back for a moment to rest while her internal systems cooled. _

_She still had to worry about Skyquake when he was repaired, and then his twin. Dreadwing would not take kindly to his brother's wounds. _

_Also, she disobeyed Ultra Magnus is revealing herself to a Decepticon. _

_ OV _

_Prowl moaned as his systems went into overdrive to keep him conscious. He would not fall to Skyquake. He could not… _

_He couldn't see. Why couldn't he see? Someone was groaning. Who was groaning? Something crashed. What crashed?_

_He tried to sit up, but an agonizing fire soared across and around his torso. He cried out in pain, but his vocalizer choked at the pitch. His servos clenched and he ground his denta. His back arched off the ground, which only served to pull the tears in his torso wires and armor. _

Primus, _it hurt. _

_He gasped and rolled over onto his front, so as to get his weight off his damaged wings. _

_ "__Easy, don't move." _

_A set of servos gently touched Prowl's unwounded shoulder and held him down. He tried to struggle against the pressure, fearing with all his spark that it was a Decepticon touching him. He pushed against whoever was behind him with his arms, but they hurt too much. _

_He collapsed back on the road. _

_ "__Settle, I am not going to hurt you—if you hold still I will seal your wounds."_

_It was a femme; that was a femme talking to him. The tone of voice was too soft to be a mech. He could have sworn Skyquake just beat the crap out of him, embarrassingly. Skyquake was most certainly a mech._

_Splitwing tried to touch him with the least amount of contact as possible. His injuries were extensive, and she didn't want to hurt him more than he already was. _

_ "__Keep still," she mumbled and pulled her emergency triage kit from subspace, picking out the small welder and numerous temporary clamps. The Autobot beneath her groaned, but no coherent words came from his vocal processor. "You will be alright."_

_She set to quick work closing his energon lines, keeping her sensors on the surrounding areas, in the case that another Decepticon made itself known. _

_It took only a few cycles to get him stable, but there was nothing she could do about his optics. They were destroyed beyond was she was capable of repairing with her little kit. She did, however, manage to fix his voice. _

_ "__If you are able, we must find cover. Skyquake will not have gone far, and Dreadwing will be even closer." The femme carefully helped the black and white Autobot to his pedes, holding him steady. The Praxian swayed dangerously on his pedes and clutched her shoulders tightly for support._

_ "__Who… are you?" He grumbled, feeling extremely fatigued and sore. He needed a medic…_

_Splitwing didn't even blink. "I must get you to the camp."_

_ "… __doesn't answer my question." Prowl sagged tiredly against Splitwing's slighter frame, causing her to strain to keep them both upright. He felt odd. Had he been given some kind of virus?_

_No, it was his wounds. Had she given him something for the pain? _

_He tried to flex his right arm, but when a white-hot pain seared his processor, he knew for certain she had not drugged him. _

_ "… __no."_

_The sudden screaming of an engine caught Splitwing's attention. _

_ "__Why won't you?" Prowl hummed quietly. Why was his chest so warm? _

_Splitwing turned her optics to the sky and caught a dark speck growing larger. _

Primus. _It was Dreadwing. _

_ "__As I told Skyquake, I am no one. You need not concern yourself with my identity. Now hold on, Dreadwing incoming."_

_ "__What?"_

_Splitwing got a solid hold on the Autobot and fired her thrusters, ducking into a still-standing building. Dreadwing drew closer, his loud turbines screaming as he rushed to aid his brother, having felt his pain through their sibling bond._

_Splitwing laid the mech down on the floor, hidden behind a counter. He groaned softly and made a comment about how 'she was not logical'. _

_She snickered inwardly. Nothing about her was logical, not anymore. She turned back to the entrance. _

_How to deal with Dreadwing? She shook her head and rubbed her face plates. Splitwing had barely been able to defeat Skyquake. She wouldn't be able to take on Dreadwing, he was definitely the brains of the two._

_She would have to wait him out. _

_Splitwing turned to the mech, "We are going to have to wait him out. I cannot defeat him in my condition and you are certainly too wounded to do much of anything—"_

_ "—__sound judgment—"_

_ "—__so we are going dark."_

_Splitwing covered the entrance with some junk she found in a back closet. She then moved to settle next to the Autobot, seeking some much needed comfort in his warmth. _

_She had been so deprived of anything and everything positive by Ultra Magnus, so she sought it wherever and whenever she could. Being a seeker, she needed touch, whether it was platonic or intimate._

_The heat that the Praxian emanated warmed Splitwing's thigh plates and sent an oddly peaceful contentedness to settle in her spark. It had been so long since she had had the opportunity to simply sit and relish in the company of another—even Railhead and Snowblitz._

_Choosing to occupy her time with something other than reading her sensors, Splitwing looked over the Praxian. _

_He was a tall mech, lean and well-built. His chassis was braod and his hips were narrow. Splitwing could see he usually had a crisp black and white paintjob, but he had been so worked over by Skyquake he just looked grey. _

_The Praxian groaned as his head lolled back and forth. Splitwing saw him clench his servos and bare his denta. _

_ "__What is it?" Splitwing asked, moving to kneel over him. _

_ "… __my wings…" he managed to wheeze before grimacing and coughing. _

_ "__Slag," Splitwing cussed and rushed to carefully flip him over. She should have known his scratched up doorwings would bother him too much to lay on them. _

_He sagged in relief once his weight was off his doorwings. _

_Splitwing once more took notice of his arm, hanging limply from his shoulder and since she could still sense Dreadwing nearby, she decided she had time to at least begin repairs on it. _

_She cycled fresh air through her systems, "Keep still, and I will repair your arm as best I can."_

_He made no noise or indication he had heard her. _

_She tapped his shoulder, "If you fall into stasis lock, I cannot help you. You are too heavy for me to drag through the streets."_

_He moaned. _

_She smirked. _

_ "__I have to expose your protoform," the femme warned before carefully removing the pieces of his shoulder armor that she needed out of the way to access the mechanics of his upper arm. _

_Splitwing picked through his shoulder for a few moments until she determined the issue. His shoulder joint was completely disconnected. The socket was empty and sparking—some wiring had been torn in his arm which broke the necessary circuits to move that limb. _

_ "__He's dislocated your joint and damaged some circuitry," she relayed to him before settling in to repair his arm._

_A relatively easy fix; a dislocation was to her. She had dealt with them on numerous occasions and was becoming quite an expert on them. _

_It took her nearly two joors to complete the repairs. The Praxian sat silently throughout the entire procedure, and gladly sat up when she assisted him. _

_ "__Roll your shoulder. Good. Flex your arm. Good. Rotate your arm. Good. Roll your wrist and flex your digits. Good." Splitwing walked him through some basic movements to assess her handiwork—and he was in full working order, at least his arm was. _

_ "__Thank you," he said softly, turning his unseeing optics in her direction. _

_She nodded, then gave him a subdued 'you're welcome' when she realized he wouldn't see her. _

_ "__May I ask the designation of my medic?" He gave her a small smile. _

_Splitwing returned the smile, "You may, though you may not get an answer. Is it not common courtesy to give yours first?"_

_The Praxian chuckled, "Prowl. My designation is Prowl."_

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Lots of exams coming up, so I apologize once more for the delay! I have not and will not give up on this story. R&amp;R! I always get more inclined to write when I hear from my readers, that is not to say I hold chapters hostage for a certain number of reviews! (I personally think that is ridiculous. I write for the sake of writing).

I apologize for any errors, I will be going back through my story to correct the mistakes I keep finding!

Thank you to all who have reviewed since my last update, I love you. You are the best and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	16. Chapter XV

_CHAPTER XV: AT LONG LAST_

Splitwing was once again at her "office", working quietly and diligently. Humans bustled here and there at her feet, careful to give her a wide berth. There were, however the odd few who could not have cared less that she was there. They walked right up to and by her feet, throwing half-minded greetings her way as they continued on their set path.

She would nod back, despite knowing they would not see her. It was the thought that counted, as they seemed to say.

Quickly flipping through another few digital files, Splitwing ran a diagnostic on the long-range detection equipment. It never hurt to check on it every so often, as she had learned by error such equipment could become faulty without notice.

That had not been a good day.

An alert pinged on the monitor, telling Splitwing that there was a secure message awaiting her attention.

It took her a split-second to download and analyze the message, it contents not something she was too keen on.

Agent Galloway was to arrive as Agent Fowler's replacement in an indeterminate amount of time. He was to inspect the base, the human section, but as a newcomer he would not be able to enter any hangar that Cybertronians inhabited until he could be trusted. It was a part of the Autobots agreement with the American government—something Splitwing was rather pleased with.

With a few taps on her console, she searched for any pertinent information on a 'Theodore Galloway'—and found nothing. He had no previous liaison experience and no post-secondary education. He did, however, have a relative that worked high up in the American government. Splitwing figured that was how he had procured a job as the President's assistant.

Splitwing sent a message to Optimus.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Prowl stared. He could have been ashamed of his blatant staring, but he truly didn't care, not this time—because _there_, standing before him, was the one person he never thought he'd see. He had honestly thought she'd been killed, having not seen or heard from her since she had saved his spark.

There, staring back at him with a small smile on her face, was Splitwing. He hadn't known her designation, but he had a very blurry image that he had saved from many _many _years ago and the femme before him matched that picture to a tee.

She was nothing like his image. Her entire build was thicker, but she very well could have added the armour and weight over the vorns. Her armour was a darker grey than it had been all that time ago, yet she had retained the same silver accents. She was curvier than what he had imagined, but his gaze was drawn to the brilliant blue of her visor. He knew that hidden behind it would be the luminescent optics of a femme, and in that moment of dawning realization he wanted nothing more than to see her eyes.

Splitwing took a small step forward and bowed her head, "Prowl, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Optimus' brow rose at the femme's words and he looked slowly to the Praxian for a response. Prowl, however, was as tense as a taught cable, ready to snap. His jaw, though, was slack and his own visor was withdrawn—which allowed the Prime to see his obvious disbelief.

_Her voice_… It was just as he remembered it, though it may have smoothed out some as she had aged. It felt to him like he had been hit with an electrical prod, turned up to the highest of settings. Prowl had calculated the possibility of his meeting this femme again, and the results had been slimmer than slim.

Everything he knew of logic had just been blown to shreds.

For the first time in a _very _long time, Optimus heard his primary tactician stutter.

"Ba-ah—_yes, _yes it is. Splitwing. You never did give me your name."

Splitwing's visor dimmed slightly as her gaze softened and her wings lowered, "No, I did not. There was a reason for that, and I am certain Optimus will explain everything to you in detail."

"And if I wish to hear it from you?" Prowl asked immediately, his body shifting forward.

The femme tilted her head and raised a brow, eyeing up the Praxian, "Then I suppose I will explain it to you. I would prefer not to, however, as the recollection of my past is… unpleasant."

"Many recollections can be unpleasant, it depends on if you _choose_ to make it unpleasant," said Prowl as his, again, looked over her body. He noted that her wings were indeed an odd shape and not a simple distortion of the picture he possessed.

Splitwing was well aware of his once-overs, but paid them little mind. During their last and only meeting he had been blinded, so she figured it would be a small shock to know what his saviour looked like. She was, however, put at odds when he had seemed to recognize her before she had even been introduced.

She hummed quietly, "Nevertheless, I am certain once you know the truth behind my being here, you will be _unpleasantly_ _surprised_. The information I possess is not something to be undermined nor underestimated."

Prowl's door wings twitched, "_I_ am certain that whatever information pertaining to the femme that saved my spark in Xeloks is something incredible. I would never undermine such knowledge."

Optimus frowned, deep in thought. He remembered the mission that Prowl had been sent on to Xeloks. He had returned blind and half-dead, spouting stories of a flyer femme that had saved him from Skyquake and his twin. Prime had never put much thought into his claims, thinking that the tactician had been hallucinogenic under his stressful circumstance—it had been known to happen before.

Now, he supposed, with the knowledge of Ultra Magnus' betrayal, it was all too possible that Prowl's stories had been _true. _

"Then I share openly with you, Prowl," Splitwing dipped her head is both respect for the Autobot tactician and remembrance of her past, "that I and all my actions throughout time have been a result of Order Vynyan."

His doorwings hitched up in surprise and his processor blanked for a few moments. His face pulled down in a frown and his shoulders seem to tense more, if at all possible. "Order Vynyan was a contingency plan, never executed. It was conjured in the highest of authority and privacy within Iacon. Not a soul other than myself, Prime, Ultra Magnus, and Jazz knew of it. All others have perished as a consequence of war."

The femme's visor dimmed sadly and her shoulders fell; her wings reflected her dejected look. "_I know_, and one of you chose to use the secrecy of Order Vynyan to your advantage. What better way to gain power than to sanction an order that only few knew of? It is indisputable that there were whispers within the academies and on the front lines of a strategy that was so bold that none really could comprehend it, but then how would I know of it, Prowl? I am but a mere femme."

Optimus moved to interrupt, but Splitwing lifted her hand and shot him a look of sadness.

Prowl was confused. His processor worked in overtime to sort through Splitwing's words.

Prime submitted to Splitwing's silent plea to tell her tale and shifted back, letting her focus on the tactician.

The seeker nodded her thanks.

"On the eve of battle, a mere day before the Battle by the Rusted Sea, I was given order by Ultra Magnus that Order Vynyan was to be executed. He chose me, for my debilitating glitch and my flight skills, to become his own errand runner. Of course, he had to explain it all to me and seven other cadets just exactly _what _Order Vynyan was, but I could not have been more foolish." Splitwing's wings had fallen limp at her back and her torso was hunched. This was not the proud femme that she once was, or could have been; too haunted by her past, but too stubborn to yield to the ghost of Ultra Magnus.

"I should have made contact with one of you to verify that the Order had, in fact, been given, but I was also denied contact with most Autobots. I originally thought I was undercover, or something to that extent, but it became clear to me after my first solo mission I was simply a pawn in Ultra Magnus' game.

"I have an expansive data package I have procured over the vorns that I will share with you that will prove my claims." Splitwing stood straighter, stiffening her struts. Her wings nearly slapped together and hung at half-mast.

Prowl cycled his optics through a slow blink before nodding his head thoughtfully, "I believe you."

Splitwing's vents spluttered haltingly and her visor flashed a bright, nearly ice-white blue, "You do? I—I haven't _shown _yo—"

The black and white Praxian raised his hand, much like Splitwing had done to Optimus just minutes beforehand. "—I believe you. I will see the file, but I could never fathom a reason as to why a lone femme was prowling around a neutral camp under siege by Decepticons. You would have been much safer _inside_ the camp, not out in the open. A neutral also would not have come to my aid, they would have turned their back and ran. Therefore, I concluded you were there on alternative business other than to seek refuge within the camp.

"Hence, to me, your story rings true. I am not one to trust easily, Splitwing, but you earned mine all that time ago on Xeloks."

The steely grey femme seemed to hold the air in her vents for a moment, her visor an incredibly light blue from surprise. Then, like a deflating balloon, her tensed frame relaxed and she gave the Praxian a soft smile. "Thank you."

Prowl returned her expression.

After carefully studying the pair before him, Optimus stepped forward. Warmth filled his spark at the warm greeting between Splitwing and Prowl, despite his confusion about their first and last encounter.

"I am glad to see that you two are on good terms. Now, I believe, is the time to brief Prowl on our current situation," the Prime gestured to Splitwing. "As my communications specialist, Splitwing is up to date on all our intelligence that you need to know of."

Splitwing bowed her helm respectfully and motioned for Prowl to follow her, then turned and strode towards her "office".

Prowl spared a second to glance at his leader, who gazed softly down at his old friend, an unreadable look in his eye.

The Praxian shook it off and moved after Splitwing, taking in the way her wings swung gently with her stride.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Win couldn't say he particularly _enjoyed_ his ride with Smokescreen, but he also could not say there were moments where he hated it.

The young Autobot had proven to be a very chatty companion, even when speeding recklessly, but he was very willing to learn. He was opinionated, but so were many people about many things.

Occasionally, the pair would lapse into silence, but the speedster would not let it last long. Sometimes he would burst into laughter—startling Win so much he nearly soiled himself—then he would regale the boy with tales of Cybertron and the Ark, and all the times he got into trouble as a youngling.

Win was rather grateful when they arrived at his home—not that he hadn't enjoyed learning of Smokescreen's own home and life, but Win was ready to sleep soundly in his own bed. The Autobot's backseat could only provide so much comfort.

Smokescreen pulled up in front of the white, weathered porch and killed his engine. He settled onto his axels and popped open his door, "We're here!"

The human rolled his eyes and climbed out of the vehicle, "Yes, I am aware of that. I _was _the one giving directions."

"Yes, but technically I was given your address as soon as you became my charge. I didn't need directions."

Win glared incredulously at the silver car, "So what the hell was all that for? I could have slept all the way here!"

Smokescreen was quiet for a second before he answered in a soft tone, "Bonding time?"

Win scoffed, "Oh, _good_ _God_. Alright, you wait here and I'll go talk to my parents." He voice lowered until he was mumbling, "I'm sure they have questions."

"Probably. Just send them out here and I'll explain it!" Chirped the gleaming Autobot. Despite the long drive, _and the driving_, his finish was spotless.

"No!" Win held his hands up as if it would stop the Cybertronian's train of thought. "I'll handle it, just stay put and don't do anything un-car-like."

No answer. Win made a wild gesture with his arm, "Well?"

"You said don't do anything un-car-like. Cars don't talk, as far as I know."

Win had the overwhelming urge to slap himself in the forehead, but managed to resist. "Okay, well good practice. Do that unless I, _only I, _come to you."

"Okay."

Win turned away from Smokescreen and faced his home. In order to try and feel some semblance of normalcy, he took a deep, steadying breath and walked to the front door.

He reached out to open it, but the door suddenly swung inwards and Win was tackled by his mother and younger sister.

They slammed into him with such force he had to take a step back for balance, but not before his mother jumped back _and_ began questioning him _and_ frantically searching his person for injury.

"_Where_ in God's name have you been? Do you _know_ how worried I've been? I haven't slept a wink! I know the government phoned, but they didn't say _anything_! What's goin' on Win? I told you not to get involved with those Kirby boys! They've been trouble since they could _crawl_!" She pointed a shaking finger in his face, giving him her signature stink-eye.

"Whoa, slow down, mum! I'm alright, everything's alright. I can't answer those questions because it's—well it's classified. I'd tell you if I could, but I can't. I'm sorry I scared you, mum," he apologized and pulled his mother in for one more tight embrace.

She huffed softly and hugged her son back, "Well, don't be running off like that again. It took a lot of convincing to keep your father home. He was determined to go after you."

Win raised his brow in confusion, "And where did he plan on looking for me? _I _don't even know the specifics."

His mother shook her head, "I don't have a clue." She pulled back, "Well, you better go talk to him!"

Win shook his head at his mother, kissed her cheek, and kneeled down to pay some attention to his little sister.

"Winny?" She hugged her little, brown teddy bear closer to her chest. Her brunette pigtails bobbed slightly as she shuffled shyly on her feet. "Is it really you?"

Win smiled gently and pulled her into his arms, "Of course, Terri, I'm home."

The little girl nuzzled into his embrace and sniffled quietly, "I missed you."

"Aw, I know, baby girl. I missed you too," Win's heart swelled with joy to see his baby sister again. "I'm glad to be home."

"Where were you?" She mumbled into his jacket.

Win gave Terri a pat on the shoulder before standing up, "C'mon inside, I'll explain it to everyone as best I can."

Terri latched on tightly to his hand, refusing to let go as she followed him into the house, trailed by their mother.

Smokescreen watched with curious eyes. He was very intrigued by the interactions between humans, perhaps because they were so alike, and so unlike his own kind.

He smiled to himself as Win embraced the little human and settled in for some recharge. He was exhausted from the journey, but he decided it from the distance—not his erratic driving.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_ALL SYSTEMS REBOOTED &amp; ONLINE—ENERGON LEVELS AT CRITICAL_

"Awe, frag," she mumbled and rubbed her face. Her body still ached from Lockdown's _kind _treatment, and her tank was practically rumbling, begging to be filled with some med-grade energon.

Snowblitz groaned softly and shifted to sit forward, having fallen back in the piloting seat. She had been exhausted after escaping and had chosen to recharge once she was certain that Lockdown was not immediately on her trail. Her systems were running much better now, but she still needed major repairs and maintenance she couldn't do on her own.

The white flyer howled suddenly, breaking the calm quiet in the pod and arched her back severely, her wings hiking upwards. This action only served to put her in more pain and she nearly screamed, but she relaxed her wings quickly and slumped in the seat.

"Guess he did more damage than I thought," Snowblitz muttered and tentatively rubbed two digits on a cable—over her shoulder—above her right wing. It hurt a whole lot more than she let on, but she was a tough femme, a simple taught cable wouldn't put her down.

After a couple kliks of assessing her true damage, Snowblitz decided that moving was not a good idea. She carefully pulled the pilot's chair forward and gingerly tapped a few keys on the control board, trying to figure out where in all of Cybertron's moons she was.

As it turned out, she was only a couple megacycles from 'Earth', the planet the Autobots were supposedly inhabiting. Feeling excitement and relief pool in her tank, she frantically checked to see if the pod had communications abilities—since hers were quite damaged—only her short-range comlink was operational.

The pod was in near perfect condition.

She hooted in joy and pumped a fist into the air, but quickly regretted it and slowly moved her arm to cradle it to her chassis.

Snowblitz then pressed the specific sequence on the board that activated a call to Earth.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"—Our previous liaison, Agent Fowler, has been redacted under unknown circumstances and an 'Agent Galloway' has been sent in his place. He should arrive shortly, but no specific date was given. It also troubles me that this 'liaison' is not truly a liaison. He has had no training for such a position, but works very closely with the humans' President," Splitwing explained to Prowl, pulling up the files she had found of Galloway onto her console's multiple screens.

The Praxian hummed thoughtfully and turned to Splitwing, "That is troubling. You have no knowledge of Agent Fowler, or his whereabouts?"

Splitwing shook her head, "I don't have _any _information on him, or what may have happened to cause this abrupt change in employment. I can say that I don't like it, and am very tempted not to cooperate with this 'Galloway'. Something isn't right here, Prowl. I've had too much experience with this sort of situation to think otherwise."

Prowl caught the haunted look flash across Splitwing's face, and a flare of old pain fired deep within his spark. He chose to lay a careful hand on her shoulder, "I agree. I trust that you will look further into this and notify me of any changes."

"Of course." The femme turned back to her console and closed the files. "I have no other information for you—that was the last of it."

Prowl nodded as Jazz sauntered by the entrance to the hangar. Splitwing saw the flash of his silver armour in the light and snapped her head around, quickly excusing herself from Prowl for the moment.

"Jazz!" She called and strode over to the entrance, "Jazz!"

The saboteur popped his head around the edge of the hangar doors with an impish grin on his face as Splitwing walked up, "Ya called?"

Splitwing snorted softly at his expression, "Yes, I did."

Jazz's shoulders and torso followed his head around the door and into the hangar, "What's up, Spits?" He waved his greeting to Prowl as the Praxian moved up beside Splitwing, curious of her intentions.

"I would like to know the details of your last assignment within the Nemesis," she said, her wings flicking minutely as she sensed Prowl's movement closer to her.

With a frown, Jazz crossed his arms over his chassis and shifted his weight to his right side, "It's all in tha report; I dunno what else I could tell ya."

"I have read your report, but you never mentioned if you came in contact with any prisoners the Decepticons may have been holding."

Jazz's frown deepened, "I didn' see any pris'ners. Ma last assignment kept me near the bridge, not tha brig."

Splitwing cycled air through her system harshly before sagging slightly, "I see."

"Who are you searching for?" Prowl asked.

Dropping her head, Splitwing turned to walk over to her console, "A young friend I haven't seen in a very long time."

Jazz cocked his head to side and sidled up beside her, Prowl following.

"Young friend? Ya never mentioned anyone other than Rail and Snowblitz," said the saboteur as he peered around Splitwing's shoulder to see what she was doing.

At that moment, a piercing wale erupted throughout the hangar.

Both Prowl and Jazz dropped into defensive positions, but Splitwing shifted forward, working furiously on her console.

"What is that?!" Jazz glanced around wildly, looking for an attacker.

"Long-range communications have been hailed by an escape pod!" Splitwing slammed her fist on the edge of her large keyboard as Prowl and Jazz rushed to her side. "Work!"

Something clicked within the console and the alarm changed to static-like white noise. Prowl notified Optimus immediately.

"Unkown vessel, this is Autobot Outpost Omega One, identify yourself," Splitwing ordered and tapped more keys on the console.

There was some fizzling and crackling before a voice came through the link.

_"—__fzzt—is Autobot Snow—crk—litz, requesting landing coordinates for—bzz—scape pod. I have just escaped Lockdown's ve—fzzt—sustained heavy damage."_

Splitwing's wings shot up into the air so quickly they nearly clipped Prowl's chin.

"Snowblitz? This is Splitwing, respond."

A moment of static, then:_ "—kirk—litwing? You're alive? Wha—fzzt—ppened to you?"_

A happy laugh escaped Splitwing's lips and her wings dropped as quickly as they rose, "It's a long story that I will tell you when you arrive. Have you been followed?"

_"__Can't tell. This pod's in good shape but I'm too—bzz—ounded and stupid to read half the controls."_

"Where are you?"

_"—__pshp—ave never seen such a blue ball. I don—kirk—ow where in the Pit I am. Ever heard of Pluto? Strangest little white rock I've never come across before; cute though."_

Prowl and Jazz shared a look behind Splitwing's back. This was an interesting femme, to say the least.

"It is likely then that you're by Neptune or Uranus. Do you know the thruster capacity of your pod?" Splitwing tapped more controls on her console as Optimus thundered into the hangar.

"Have you made contact, Splitwing?" He asked, shaking the floor and he approached.

She nodded, "I have."

_"—__bzzt—dunno. I told you I can't read this slag. You're the pilot. Does a—pshp—seven-eleven point forty-thirty—kirk—ean anything to you?"_

"That's the cargo capacity," Splitwing shook her head. "I _did _show this to you before, more than once."

_"__Aw frag, I never paid attention. What abou—shhk—two dash five-six?"_

"Waste tank volume."

_"__Frag. Eight-one dash three-ninety?"_

"Good, the thrusters are at their best. I estimate, depending on your position, that you will reach Earth within three orns. Set your trajectory to these coordinates and _don't _tamper with your speed. If you set yourself to stasis lock, you should survive your wounds long enough to receive medical aid," Splitwing directed Snowblitz and sent her a data burst containing coordinates along the coast of Peru.

_"—shht—knowledged. See you in three orns!"_

All three mechs watched as Splitwing waited for Snowblitz to end the connection before disconnecting the line. She stood quietly, hand still by the key that ended the call, seeming to be frozen in her shock.

Jazz stepped forward soundlessly and stroked her arm gently. He whispered, "She's comin' home, Spits. It's gonna be alright."

The seeker femme turned her head enough to see Jazz's earnest expression. She studied him for a moment before grasping his hand and smiling softly back at him.

"At last, it will."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Hello, my beloved readers! I cannot apologize enough for the long wait, but I can tell you that I have gotten myself a new job that takes up quite a large chunk of my time. Anyhow, the next update shouldn't be too long, since I've got it all planned out. _

_Jaye_


	17. Chapter XVI

_CHAPTER XVI: SHE TAMPERED_

Snowblitz looked at the controls of the pod with a befuddled face. She had no clue how to set her course—she _probably_ should have asked _before_ shutting down the call to earth.

"Fraggity frag me sideways. Maybe it's this one?" Snowblitz mumbled and wiggled her fingers overtop the flashing symbol that might as well have been another language. She may be an aerialbot, but when it came to flying _other _ships, she was screwed in every sense of the word.

She made a fist and frowned, "Ah, I don't think it's that one. Flashing lights are usually bad… right? Why can't ships just have simple wording? Like 'press here to go faster'. 'Pull this lever to self-destruct'. 'Put coordinates here', but _no, _it's all gotta be slaggin' gramblegrot."

Rolling her optics, Snowblitz decided to bite the bullet. "Alright, here we go. If the ship blows up, it's not my fault."

She pressed the flashing button.

And it stopped flashing.

A small window popped open on a small screen above the controls.

Her brow rose, "Huh. Maybe that _was_ the right one." She quickly punched in the coordinates and entered them into the system.

Only for the pod to shudder violently and shoot off faster at a velocity it was never meant to go.

The femme was sent flying from her seat, slamming into the back of the pod.

"Ack! Wrong one! _Wrong one!_" Snowblitz scrambled across the floor of the pod and back into her seat, frantically searching for an 'undo' button.

"Oh dear," she grimaced and starting pressing random controls, "slow down!"

But the pod didn't, no matter her efforts. A small tank at the rear of the little ship popped off, which just so happened to be the waste cistern. The loss of the weight from the tank only sped up her pod.

"Frag," she cursed, smacking the last flashing button on the board.

Another window popped up, identical to the last one.

Snowblitz froze, staring unblinking at it.

Then, she rolled her shoulders—feeling the pain down her struts—and punched in the coordinates to earth. "What else could I do wrong?"

The vessel jerked violently to the left, nearly removing Snowblitz from her seat once more.

"Finally!" The white femme hooted and settled down, preparing her body for stasis lock.

"Guess I'll be getting there a lot sooner now."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"Why grey?"

"Hm?"

"Yer paint, it's grey."

"Excellent observation."

"'s ma job."

"In as many words."

"So?"

"Yes?"

"Why grey?"

Splitwing turned her head to raise a brow at Jazz, who was leaning leisurely against her console, arms crossed over his chassis while he inspected his claws.

He had been there since her shift had begun early that morning.

"I could ask you the same: why silver?"

"'cause I'm _flashy_."

Splitwing hummed deep in her throat, returning her gaze to her console's screens, "_Or_, perhaps, is it because silver is a shade that blends in well with Decepticon warships?"

Jazz smirked roguishly and made a playful clawing motion at her, "_Or_, it's got easy upkeep. I don' gotta clean ma self ev'ry day."

"_Or_, you've gotten lazy. Weren't you white, on Cybertron?"

The saboteur gasped loudly and shot Splitwing a look of faux hurt, "Ya _watched_ me on Cybertron? Why di'n ya say hello! It's _rude_ to spy on people, ya know." He turned away from her with an exaggerated pout on his face and crossed his left foot over his right ankle.

Splitwing snorted and a humourless laugh fell from her mouth, "Jazz, that's what you do every day. You _are_ a spy."

"So?" He grumped, "what does that make _you_?"

She tilted her head to the side in thought, "I was given many tasks, yes, espionage was one of them, but not a singularity in my life. Yes, on occasion I would see you on my travels, but I also knew of you before I left the academy."

Jazz looked at her out of the corner of his visor.

She rolled her optics, "Jazz, it was the academy for communications _and espionage_. I do believe you were there time to time?"

"I might 'o been."

"And which academy was it I was stationed at?"

Silence met her answer and she allowed herself to smile victoriously.

"So, why grey?"

Splitwing snorted, "I find it much easier to blend into the shadows with grey tones. I also never had a reason to bother with the task of giving myself a noticeable appearance."

Jazz finally faced her and tapped her dark grey shoulder with his claw, "Well, now ya have a reason."

Her brow rose and her digits lifted off her console board, "What reason would that be?"

He gave her a lecherous grin, his visor flashing brightly for a split-second, "Because I _want_ ya too."

Her spark pulsed ferociously and she could feel the tendrils surrounding it pawing at the walls of her chamber. Her ventilation system hiccupped quietly and Jazz gently stroked her cheek in her stupor.

He leaned in close, slightly surprised the femme hadn't retreated—but he wasn't going to look the proverbial gift-horse in the mouth—and purred softly, "I've gotta go assess Prowler's sparring skills. Think 'bout the paint, darlin'."

With that said, the saboteur sauntered from the hangar, leaving a frozen femme behind—her wings twitching anxiously.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"You are late," said Prowl as Jazz sidled into the training room. It did not escape his notice that Jazz was walking with a bit more sway to his hips than usual.

Or the silly grin on his face. Or his abnormally bright visor.

Prowl frowned and crossed his arms over his chest plates, "What did you do?"

"What d'ya mean, Prowler? I didn't do anythin'," Jazz smirked and stretched his arms above his head, popping his head side to side to loosen up his neck supports.

The Praxian's optics narrowed, "Your hips have too much sway, you are grinning like you just interfaced and your visor is sixty-four percent brighter than normal. You did something."

Jazz angled himself suggestively to Prowl, "Oh, Prowler, I didn't know ya watched ma hips!"

Prowl's cooling circuits rose a few notches, but he rolled his eyes to cover up the sound, "Jazz."

The silver mech chuckled, "Okay, okay." He moved to the center of the room, Prowl following closely. "Spits didn' reject ma advance."

"Your advance?" Prowl asked, not entirely surprised. He had seen the way he'd acted around the femme the day before. It was… intriguing to him.

Jazz hummed deep in his throat, his engine rumbling in his excitement, "She let me touch 'er cheek plates. _Primus_, there is something about that femme…"

Prowl glanced out the door Jazz had entered through, "You feel it too?"

The saboteur turned on Prowl in a flash, "You feel it? Tha pull?"

"I do," the Praxian nodded.

Jazz rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "And ya just met 'er."

"No, I did not," Prowl frowned, the hazy memory of the fight with Skyquake flaring in his mind—then the appearance of Splitwing and the entire thing filled with clarity. He remembered every lilt of her voice, every move she had made.

Jazz narrowed his optics, his sharp processor picking up on the memory of Prowl's return from the neutral camp. "Xeloks. It was Spits that saved yer tailpipes, wasn' it?"

Prowl's door wings flared outwardly as he nodded, "It was. I never knew for certain who she had been, until yesterday."

There was a quiet that settled between the two, each lost deep in their own train of thought.

It was Jazz to break it: "What was she like? Back then, when she saved ya."

It took a moment for Prowl to answer. "She was quiet, I do not remember if she had even said anything to Skyquake when they battled. I believe she only spoke to me to keep me from stasis lock.

"She was, however, in contact with me for the majority of our meeting. I did not think much of it, but now having learned of her past, it seems logical to me."

"How's that?" Jazz mused.

"I am certain you know that Seekers are a very physical race. They are comforted and pleased with touch. I imagine that if one were to be deprived of such contact, they would take advantage of every opportunity presented to them, therefore Splitwing's actions are justified." The Praxian absently rubbed the armour on his thigh.

Jazz pursed his lips, "Makes sense, but I hope ya know that Seekers also form trines."

"Of course, that is common knowledge."

"Spits doesn' have a trine."

Prowl frowned, "What of Railhead and Snowblitz?"

Jazz shrugged, "I heard somethin' 'bout them not bein' able to form a proper trine 'cause they're just Aerialbots."

"How… lonely."

"Why? They were together most 'o tha time."

"Think about it, Jazz," Prowl said, "Splitwing is a Seeker. She has been without a trine her entire existence—as far as we are aware—and Seekers often form trines immediately upon maturity. Her spark would pine for its other parts, only to find no answer. Her spark has been alone for a very long time."

"How d'ya know so much 'bout Seekers?" Jazz asked, though he already knew the answer. He was a saboteur for a reason, after all.

"I am a strategist, it was, _is_, my job to determine a way to defeat Decepticons. Being that almost all Seekers followed Starscream, I took it upon myself to learn of their customs."

The saboteur smiled internally, _that's ma Proactive_ _Prowl, through and through. _

"So, what do we do now?"

"I believe that the next move is Splitwing's."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

It took her a while to calm down, but when she did her processor wouldn't quit replaying Jazz's words in her mind.

_Think 'bout the paint, darlin'_

He had called her _darling. _That was a term of endearment. A term used commonly among mated pairs. _Mated _pairs.

Splitwing and Jazz were not a mated pair.

_But did she want to be?_

Jazz had been the only one to express that kind of interest in her from the start, other than perhaps Prowl. Both mechs had given her intimate touches—Jazz more than Prowl—but Prowl had believed her story whole heartedly, no convincing needed. He said he _trusted _her.

Her spark fluttered at her musings. No one had openly trusted her for so long, other than Railhead and Snowblitz. It left her… warm.

Here were two bots that she _liked_—granted, she hadn't spent much time with Prowl—and one had expressed romantic interest in her.

Could it be too good to be true? Ultra Magnus had been quite adamant that no Cybertronian would ever fully accept her other than him—but he had never truly accepted her. He had broken her down and trampled over her battered frame.

He had no control over her here, never again would she have to take his orders as word of law.

She was free.

And she was curious.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_: Splitwing to Optimus, acknowledge. :_

Optimus didn't so much as blink when Splitwing's ping bounced off his receivers. He had been so bored with the humans' documentation that he was searching for any out to gain a reprieve from the work.

_: Acknowledged. What have you found? :_

_: Long-range scanners have detected a source of energon, accompanied by a lone Decepticon, moving in northern Russia. :_

_: Do you have identification on the Decepticon? :_

_: Negative. :_

Optimus smiled slyly to himself. He was fully aware of Splitwing's situation and the inklings that two of his subordinates possessed for her. He decided to play a little game with himself and if he won, he would set aside the human 'paperwork' for a while and go recharge. If he lost, well, he hated to think of the mountain of work piling up on his datapads.

_And _Jazz had recently informed him that Prowl was in as good shape he had always been.

_: Inform Prowl and Jazz that they are to investigate the disturbance. You will accompany them to provide air support. :_

There was the briefest of pauses before she responded. _: Acknowledged. : _

Optimus smiled again and leaned back in his seat, pistons and gears popping in his enormous struts. Now, all he had to do was wait.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing's thrusters screamed as she tore through the groudbridge. The sound elicited a light, airy feeling of joy in her spark, leaving her nearly giddy. Only years of patience and her natural level-headedness kept her from whooping with glee.

She flipped her elevators and barrel rolled to the left, leaving the tactician and the saboteur in her dust.

_: Keep your sensors tuned, I was unable to determine the build of this Decepticon. It may be a grounder or flyer. :_

Two simultaneous acknowledgements responded to her message.

_: Be careful up there, Spits. We can't support ya much from down 'ere. :_

_: I will, Jazz. : _

The air was cold in the part of Russia they had traced the signal to. A thick blanket of white clouds were quickly descending, preparing to drop a load of snow that would undoubtedly end in a blizzarding whiteout.

Splitwing watched both the skies and the wood below, but her sensors failed to pick up the signal in time.

_Decepticon Life Signal Detected—Short Range: Designation Dreadwing_

_WHAM_

An enormous weight landed on both of Splitwing's wings, forcing her straight down towards the earth. She grunted from the impact and struggled to shake Dreadwing from her top.

The Decepticon, however, grabbed her nose and forced it down, stopping her from pulling up.

With a scowl, Splitwing studied the quickly approaching ground. She dropped her rear end and fired her thrusters, preparing her body for transformation.

It happened in seconds. Dreadwing loosened his hold on her nose and readied himself to jump off her back—and Splitwing began to unfold herself.

Her feet hit the snow with a jarring impact, shaking her joints and reverberating throughout her plating. As a result of her speed she skidded for quite a ways in the snow, leaving deep trenches behind.

As she slid to a stop she turned, twin swords dropping from the subspace pockets above her wrists and falling swiftly into her awaiting palms.

Dreadwing was a hundred yards away, pulling himself to his feet and shaking the snow from his wings.

_: I've been grounded. Dreadwing is here, five miles west of your position. : _

Splitwing settled into a defensive stance, blades glinting sharply in the daylight.

Dreadwing tensed, having sensed her presence, and turned slowly to face her.

Her face guard slid into place.

Dreadwing reached over his shoulder to draw his own great sword, sneering disdainfully in her direction.

"Dreadwing," said Splitwing, her wings high and stiff at her back.

The hulking Decepticon vented harshly and twirled his heavy and cumbersome weapon in his servos, "Femme."

_: We are on our way, do not engage him. : _Prowl ordered Splitwing over the three-way communications link.

_: Then I would perish. : _

The blue and gold 'con suddenly charged with a roar. Splitwing lowered herself even more and set herself to dodge, knowing that if Dreadwing hit her dead on it could mortally wound her.

_: Fend him off as best ya can, we're almost there. :_

The femme jumped to the side just in the nick of time, ducking under Dreadwing's blade. He growled angrily at his failed attack and whirled around to make another attempt, only for Splitwing's twin swords to slash two gouges in his stomach plating.

He howled in a rage, his voice on par with a crack of thunder.

Splitwing leapt back before he could attack again, keeping her swords up and wings flared for balance.

"I remember what you did to my brother, all those years ago."

With a boost from her thrusters, Splitwing ducked Dreadwing's lunge and immediately parried the strike he had aimed for her legs. She refused to banter with him. She would not lower herself to that level.

Dreadwing spun around to gain momentum for another swipe at her, to which Splitwing met head on. The clashing of their blades rang throughout the frozen forest around them, echoing for miles.

They glared fiercely at one another, fighting with all their might to out match the other.

It was a fight Splitwing would most definitely lose, so she prepared to duck away from the confrontation.

Dreadwing, however, noticed the shift in her wings and would not let her get away so easily. With an effortless, one-handed swing, Dreadwing knocked her swords away, exposing her chest.

Before she could retaliate, the Decepticon struck with such force she went bowling through the woods. His punch put a huge dent in her armour, causing it to collapse in on her spark chamber, which in turn agitated her spark to a point it flickered weakly—nearly extinguishing.

She rolled and crashed through dozens of trees, giant splinters embedding themselves in the cracks of her plating. Splitwing gaped like a fish as she finally slammed into a behemoth tree, desperately trying to suck air back into her vent system.

Then, the pain washed over her.

It began in her spark, seizing all motor functions as she tensed, then convulsed wildly.

Dreadwing began to approach her, his sword held high to deliver the final hit.

Except for the hail of blaster fire that forced him away, lest he be wounded. The Decepticon harrumphed, grumpy he had lost his prize, turn on his heel and trod off, leaping into his jet form and zipping away.

Jazz and Prowl tracked him with their blasters for a few moments more to be certain he wasn't turning back.

Then they heard the moaning of damaged armour, grinding against itself.

Prowl ran up to Splitwing first, kicking away her swords she had managed to keep a hold of.

Something sharp and jagged plunged itself deep into her spark, ripping and tearing a hole through her entire existence. She began to claw madly at her chest, trying to get it out. Before it killed her.

"Grab her hands! She'll hurt herself!" Jazz scrambled to restrain her thrashing legs.

Prowl, with lightning quick reflexes, snatched up her wrists and pinned them to her sides. Her motor cables groaned from the stress she imbued on them, fighting to get them away from the force preventing her from getting the dagger out of her chest.

Prowl had to jump up and straddle her stomach to gain enough leverage to hold her arms still.

"Splitwing! Spits! Listen to ma voice! It's okay! It's okay! Dreadwing's gone!" Jazz stroked her thigh plating with his thumb and she bucked.

Catching on to his train of thought, Prowl leaned down and murmured softly in Splitwing's audio receptors.

"Hush, dear Splitwing. It is my turn to protect you. Dreadwing is gone, Jazz and I are here. We are here _for_ _you. _Calm yourself."

Her spark tried to claw its way from its chamber. She didn't know why or how, but it wanted out. There was something out there it wanted. And it was hurting her.

As she gulped air into her internals, the pain slowly began to dissipate and voices trickled into her mind. There was a weight on her stomach. And her wrists.

And her legs.

What in the name of Primus was going on?

She grimaced as her spark flared angrily, reminding her it still wanted out.

"Spits? Spits? C'mon, talk ta us!"

Finally, _oh sweet peace, _her body relaxed. She sighed as the air finally cycled throughout all her systems again and the pain subsided, except for a residual fire within her chassis.

"Jazz?"

The silver saboteur could have cried out in relief when the femme _finally _responded to his pleas. Prowl slowly let her wrists go and slid off her belly, but Jazz was content to hug her legs.

"It's me, darlin'. Is it over now?" He asked softly, vividly remembering her attack all that time ago before they had sparred for the first time. Jazz quickly compacted his memory file and sent a wireless version to Prowl so he wouldn't be too confused, though now he should be about as knowledgeable as Jazz on the matter of Splitwing's episodes.

With a final, hot gust of air expelled from her vents, Splitwing nodded, "Yes."

Prowl stiffened as he viewed the file.

"Darlin', ya seriously gotta tell me what that's about."

Splitwing's visor dimmed until it was nearly black, "I suppose it's about time I told you."

"Yeah, yeah it is," Jazz murmured and continued to stroke her leg, which she didn't seem to mind.

Prowl, though, was compiling a quick report to send off to Ratchet and Optimus, regarding the turn of events and both Splitwing's injuries and her apparent spark attack-failure.

"So? What's goin' on, Spits?"

Another sigh, another moment of bated breath.

"I… I have a fractured spark."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_I figured because you have all been so patient with me, I would get this sucker fired out right away for you lovely readers! _

_However, I couldn't give you all the juice, hence the cliffhanger! _

_As per usual, reviews are encouraged and welcomed! Please notify me of any mistakes so that I may correct them right away. _

_Jaye_


	18. Chapter XVII

_CHAPTER XVII: EVER SEEN A PAINT SWAP?_

Railhead had finally regained consciousness, all traces of whatever had affected her were gone. Ratchet was unable to find any traces of a contamination, so he summed it up to stress and anxiety.

She wasn't so sure.

No matter what she told the good medic, he couldn't come up with another viable reason behind her epileptic episode. It unnerved her though, that Ultra Magnus' voice could worm its way into her processor when Ratchet assured her that her glitch was one-hundred percent gone.

Railhead lay restlessly on the medical berth.

"Hey, Doc Bot, when can I get outta here? I'm going stir crazy," she asked Ratchet—who had drifted by her on his way to take inventory of his limited datapads.

He wasn't startled by her question, he knew she'd want out as soon as she woke up—only Primus knew how much he wanted his med-bay empty, so he was inclined to let her go.

"As soon as I clear you physically, you may leave. You should not be experiencing any symptoms of 'craziness', I just removed your glitch," he replied and mumbled incoherently to himself about needing more datapads.

The stout femme huffed in an annoyed fashion, "Can't you clear me, then? I want out."

Ratchet rolled his optics, "I will clear you when I want to clear you. For now, being that you've only been fully functional and conscious for _a joor_ gives me good enough reason to hold onto you until I see it fit you are cleared."

"Blah," Railhead snorted and sat up, flexing her stiff wings as she went. "You aren't the greatest company, y'know?"

The medic raised a brow and hummed quietly, but did not turn to face the femme, "Oh, I know."

Railhead rolled her optics and took it upon herself to inspect the medical bay, searching for signs of weakness or anything she could complain about to pass the time.

It was all well and good; until the medic stiffened so suddenly the pistons in his back hiccupped.

Her sharp eyes snapped to his backside, "What? What is it?"

Ratchet was eerily silent for a solid minute before he broke into motion, prepping a berth at lightning speed.

"Ratchet?" Railhead called softly, almost too hesitant to distract him.

It took him a long moment before he replied in the midst of his work. "Splitwing, Jazz and Prowl were sent off this morning to investigate the lone signal of a Decepticon and some energon. Prowl has just informed me that the Decepticon was Dreadwing, setting up some kind of trap."

Railhead's tanks churned uncomfortably, "A… trap?"

Ratchet nodded, "And Splitwing was caught in it."

Railhead froze, her vents halting its processes in her all-encompassing fear. If Ratchet was moving that fast to prep the med-bay, it could only mean that Splitwing wasn't in good shape.

Ratchet cast a fleeting, side-long glance at the femme, "Prowl has told me that Dreadwing caught her in the chest plates, which caused her to experience some kind of spark-failure, similar to her last attack."

"Last attack?"

"I believe it was close to a week ago. She was passing by the lounging room when Jazz and Optimus witnessed her convulse and collapse. I wasn't present and she didn't come to me to a checkup, so I can't say for certain what's happening. I've been informed that she's mostly recovered from the convulsions, but her chassis is heavily damaged," Ratchet prattled to Railhead, hoping to keep her from panic.

She was frowning, her optics dim as she concentrated on her thoughts.

It was then that Prowl burst through the doors, carting Splitwing in his arms with Jazz tripping on his heels.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"What happened?" Ratchet barked as he rushed to the side of the berth, his servos ready to assess Splitwing's damage.

Prowl ducked out of the way, "As I said, Dreadwing planned an ambush tailored to eliminate Splitwing."

"Just straighten my chest plates, please, my damages are minimal next to that," Splitwing requested as Ratchet pushed her torso down to the berth.

"Your damages _are_ what I say they _are_, nothing else!" He barked and immediately began to run an in-depth scan of Splitwing's internals—not wanting to start any repairs on her chassis until he knew the condition of her spark.

It was not good.

Splitwing noticed the frown on Ratchet's face as soon as it appeared. He was tapping away on his main datapad with a concerned focus, which served to worry Splitwing.

She might have been in worse shape than she had originally thought.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Moments earlier, in Russia:_

"… A fractured spark?" Jazz vented quietly, racking his memory files for any knowledge he may have had on such a thing.

But he found nothing.

Splitwing nodded and laid her helm back in the snow, fatigue plaguing her systems.

Prowl stared blankly at her a moment, but then he frowned. "You have no trine."

She was unresponsive for a moment, appearing as if to be in recharge. Her visor had dimmed and her wings lay limp in the snow, limbs sprawled out wildly.

A quiet hiss could be heard as air escaped her systems, "… no, Prowl, I do not."

"I do not see how a fracture could have developed without the loss or separation from a trine," Prowl tried desperately to find a logical explanation for such a condition, but they all defied his previous research.

"There are many things you do not know, nor that you see. I have a fracture because I tried too desperately to be kind. The result was not… what I expected. I paid the price for my naivety." Splitwing slowly sat up, wincing and grunting as her warped chest plates were forced to flex and grind against the other.

Prowl and Jazz were quick to push her back to the ground, but she waved off their attempts. Once sitting up, quite aware of Jazz still sprawled in her lap, she flexed her wings. She grimaced as pain shot through the nerve wires in her upper back,_ I suppose that's where I landed. _

"One day I will tell you my story—the entirety of it—but for now just know that I am dying and there is but one fix," Splitwing uttered softly while rolling her shoulders, mentally checking for damage.

Prowl tilted his head to the side, almost in a curious fashion as he pieced it together, "A spark bond."

Jazz's brow rose and Splitwing tensed for a split-second, but nodded all the same.

"Yes. I have been informed that the only substance that will fill the hole in my spark is the energy created from merging with another's spark. This would, of course, cause a bond and because of my build I must find two suitable people who would accept me within two orns," Splitwing frowned and mumbled quietly, "I think that's how much time I have left."

Jazz surprised her by asking, "B'fore what?"

She looked nearly startled for a moment, but she then seemed to accept his incredible hearing and question. "Before Ratchet takes medical intervention."

Prowl tensed so swiftly and so quickly that his armour clanked and a piston in his back squealed with protest. "Intervention? Splitwing, I have heard of cases that end in death because of that process."

She bowed her helm, "I am well aware. Ratchet gave me a window of three orns to find a trine for myself before he'd step in, but I am afraid that I'm very inexperienced in the ways of 'mate-seeking'."

Jazz smirked and his visor flashed playfully, "I think yer better than ya think you are."

Splitwing frowned, looking to Jazz for an explanation when Prowl suddenly and unexpectedly brushed his digits across her chassis—right above her spark.

Her visor blazed a blinding white in surprise and she jolted forward into his touch, her spark calling loudly for more. Her optics shorted out from the force of her spark call—which both Jazz and Prowl felt fiercely.

Prowl smiled ever-so softly and opened a link to Jazz. _: Get close to her spark. :_

Jazz sent the tactician a curious look before shifting on Splitwing's legs, reaching forward to firmly plant his entire hand on her chest plates, above her spark with absolutely no tact.

The femme gaped and gasped and shuddered at the contact, her spark howling in need. The ever-seeking tendrils were trying desperately to find a crack in her armour to get closer to the strong, pulsing sparks of Prowl and Jazz.

Her cables went lax and she fell back into the snow, shivering and keening softly for more.

_ : Would ya look at that? Does that mean what I think it means? :_ Said Jazz, rubbing the seeker's belly armour caringly.

Splitwing churred in pleasure and arched into his touch. In a normal environment, she might have jumped back from the contact, but being that it was _Jazz_ touching her and she had just suffered from a battle-induced spark failure, she was a little fragged in the processor.

However, she knew somewhere within her mind that if it had been any other mech than Jazz or Prowl, she wouldn't have allowed such intimacy.

_ : I do believe so, but are you ready for such a commitment? :_ Prowl asked and gently stroked Splitwing's cheek. She accepted his move without so much as a blink.

She knew it was incredibly out of character for herself to be so wanton in the snow, but with the pain of her injuries and her stubborn spark, she wasn't so sure she cared.

Jazz's response was immediate, _: It's Spits, Prowler. It's you an' me. We both felt tha connection, and I know that this femme isn' like any other. I'm willing to give ma'self ta her. :_

Prowl hummed to himself, thinking.

_ : Besides, I've lived long enough it's time I settled down, and Spits is tha one I want. :_ Jazz murmured and brushed his knuckles over the seam in her chest that led to a beautiful orb of wonder.

In the time the two mechs had been talking, Splitwing had returned to reality. The deliciously calming patterns Jazz drew on her chest plates were more tranquil and peaceful than she would have initially believed, but then again she'd never truly had a physical relationship with another Cybertronian; or any kind of relationship that was anything more than platonic, so she didn't have any real idea what it would be like. Prowl's digits on her cheek were the proverbial icing on the cake; she couldn't remember a time when she had felt so content—despite her wounds.

_Was this love, or infatuation? Primus, _she hoped it was something more than infatuation.

She glanced up at the two grounders, finding their gazes to be unfocused. It took her all of a subtle twitch of Prowl's finger for her to know they were speaking to one another on a private com-line.

"I know you're speaking of me," Splitwing muttered and grabbed Jazz's wandering hand. She squeezed it firmly, but did not let go.

Jazz shot her a wide, impish grin. Then, before her processor could really comprehend what he was doing, Jazz slithered the rest of his way up her body until they were visor-to-visor. They stared into one another's optics for a long, visible moment; both of their sparks pulsing in time with the other.

Her visor flashed a bright, electrical blue as his grin softened into a smile. It clicked somewhere in her mind that he was very close to her, in fact, he was touching nearly every part of her front, except her face.

_Then _he touched her face. He leaned forward and gently pressed his cheek against Splitwing's, relishing in the warmth her plating was producing. He waited all of a split-second for the femme to lean into the contact before he began to rub his cheek firmly against hers, imprinting her armor with his light silver paint and as she ground her face against his, she gave him the rich, steel grey of her own paint.

A deep purr sounded from her chassis, her spark thrumming excitedly as Jazz turned his head and lightly nipped her audial receptor. She, in turn, grazed her denta along the base of his throat, all the while clutching his hand tightly.

Meanwhile, Prowl watched with the smallest hint of hesitation, but as soon as he witnessed Splitwing's immediate acceptance of Jazz's courtship offer, he'd made up his mind.

The tactician lowered himself to her opposite cheek and pressed his own into hers - praying to Primus that he had not made a fool of himself.

Alas, the greatest thing that could have happened to Prowl, _did_. Splitwing turned from Jazz and pushed herself into his cheek, his offer, and his _life_.

The trio spent another minute ravishing the feeling of having each other close - all their sparks humming in sync.

Jazz was the first to once again take notice of Splitwing's injuries. He wanted nothing more than to take care of _his_ femme, but he knew Ratchet was needed for this fix.

"Can't have our girl fritzin' out on us, i'nt that right, Prowler?"

Prowl nodded once, but didn't pull away from the seeker. He was so entranced by the feel of another's plating against his own, he didn't feel rushed to end the connection. However, his logical side won the battle and he gave himself another minute to share paint with Splitwing.

Soon after, once both grounders made sure their marks were securely on Splitwing, they broke away to admire their new commitment.

"We're gonna getcha to Ratchet so he can fix ya up," Jazz caressed Splitwing's hip plating as he rolled off her, making room for Prowl to lean around her.

Splitwing felt Prowl's lengthy arms curl around her back and under her thighs just before he hefted her swiftly into the air. Her vents stuttered at the suddenness of it, but her spark pulsed and throbbed anxiously in response to the closeness of Prowl's spark.

Jazz stooped down and retrieved both of Splitwing's swords before following Prowl, hearing him request a bridge back to base.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Absolutely, it was the first thing Ratchet noticed about the trio as they came and went; the discoloured face plates. His spark lifted at the sight, knowing that with their connection and history, it wouldn't be long before they were truly bonded. Splitwing would be safe and two of his oldest friends would finally find a sliver of peace within the endless war they were a part of.

His thoughts did not dwell on the subject, however, since his profession as a medical officer drew his attention to the gaping dent in Splitwing's chest.

"Splitwing, what in the name of Primus have you gotten yourself into now?" Ratchet grumbled and worked quickly to stabilize the seeker's spark. It wasn't his instruments that first noticed her spark calling, it was his own body. The tell-tale pull within his chassis was his first alert, but when a tingle raced through his systems that felt suspiciously like the initial stage of interfacing protocols, Ratchet knew.

Jazz and Prowl had started something that could not be stopped.

There wasn't much he could do without stressing Splitwing's spark to settle the calling, so he was left with the task of trying to repair her chest plates without further antagonizing her internals.

In the time it had taken Ratchet to settle Splitwing into the berth and run diagnostics on all of her essential and damaged systems, He had had Railhead moved to another section of the med-bay and Prowl had sent Jazz to report to Optimus.

Prowl chose to stand out of Ratchet's way, wisely, but still closer to the berth than the medic would have liked. His gaze was solely on Splitwing, but his brooding stance and crossed arms gave Ratchet no clue as to what the tactician's thoughts were.

Splitwing herself could only think of the exaggerated pulsing her spark would not give up on. It throbbed and ached and shot through her entire frame, racing through her circuitry and warming her ports. She was very aware that her spark calling was reaching another level that she was not prepared for. Her body, on the other hand, seemed to be racing towards a hard interface and a solid merge.

"I must remove your armor and your under armor on your chest, then I must reform your protoform as best I can," Ratchet's lilting timbre drew Splitwing back to the present, bringing her to face an unpleasant treatment. "There is nothing I can do for your spark, at the moment, but I am giving you the choice as to whether or not you wish to remain conscious during this procedure. I must warn you, Splitwing, tampering with your protoform is not going to be comfortable."

"There is a low probability that there would be need of me in the mean time, yes?" She grunted. Her desire to be uncomfortable was rather non-existent.

"You'll be just fine, I will wake you if an emergency arises," Ratchet said as he prepared her body for the operation he was soon to perform.

The femme glanced at Prowl, then lowered her helm to the berth.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

"Ungh," Snowblitz groaned as she came to. She rubbed her forehead groggily and fell forward in her seat, moaning and groaning and creaking as she went. Her elbows rested on her knees as the raging fire of pain raced up her back, through her wings, and to her shoulders.

"Nn-gah-_ah_, that _hurts_."

The slim, white seeker dragged her digits down her face and tugged at her own chin, fed up with the pain Lockdown had caused her. She wished she would have killed the bounty hunter, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became - because she knew she wouldn't have been able to survive a one-on-one with Lockdown when she was wounded and she was without her weapons.

As Snowblitz lifted her head, she took stock in the dead control board in front of her and the blinding whiteness plaguing the entirety of the pod's front window.

"Where, in the name of Primus, am I?" Snowblitz grumbled with a frown.

A light bulb flashed in her mind and a flash of liberal joy lit up her spark, "_Earth_." A grin split apart her face as she raced to initiate a communication line to the Omega Outpost. She was finally _home_.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_At last, the long awaited chapter! Once more, I am very thankful for everyone's continued support and enthusiasm when reviewing and reading. :) Please know that each time I receive a review, it instantly makes my day brighter!_

_Please notify me if you spot any grammatical or spelling errors!_

_To mewnekoice12: I am thrilled that you think so! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)_

_To my other reviewers: Thank you. That's all I can really say-_thank you_. (:_

_\- Jaye_


	19. Chapter XVIII

_CHAPTER XVIII: THE GREAT CHASE_

As per the norm, Ratchet was grumbling incoherently while he worked. The procedure had been a success and he expected Splitwing to be up and out of his way within a few days.

Prowl had been steadfast during the operation. He had been a quiet observer, his visor flickering and burning with a light so strange it had drawn the attention of Ratchet. The Praxian was quite tense, which led the medical officer to several conclusions.

One: he was concerned for Splitwing's health, which was rather obvious and expected.

Two: he was injured. Prowl tended to stiffen uncomfortably so when he bore a wound, a trait Ratchet suspected came with his lineage. He had known Prowl's predecessors—they had been as stoic as a stone wall, but they always had a tick; and often it was stiffness.

Three: he wasn't certain how to process the news of Splitwing's condition. Ratchet was aware that Prowl himself had not known well anyone that had a spark fracture, and it might take him some time to come to terms with his involvement with Splitwing. They would, of course, be forever bound once their sparks became one.

Ratchet paid little mind to the entire matter, though. He knew Prowl would come to him if he required medical attention and he was always exceptional at performing under pressure. He wasn't worried in the least.

In fact, the old Autobot was _excited_. It had been so long since a good, solid bond had been formed between Cybertronians. Being the social creatures they were, he figured it was about time they celebrated something other than the death of their own kind.

Something _good_ would finally come from their damned war.

"Ratchet," Prowl murmured, breaking the red and white mech out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Prowl?"

"How much pain would a spark injury cause?"

_Primus, _Ratchet's armor plating flared suddenly and deflated back into place, "Are you really certain you wish to know the answer to that?"

The Praxian moved for the first time in hours, an ominous creak sounding from his waist. He stepped forward and uncrossed his arms, leaning over Splitwing, hearing the offbeat pulse of her spark.

"Do you have an estimate for how long she has been like this?" Reaching out, Prowl ghosted his digits over Splitwing's cheek, enamoured with how she could look so intriguing even when her armor was littered with dents, scrapes and minor gouges.

He had the sudden urge to tidy her up, because he believed it was an unjust act to leave her in such condition.

Ratchet pursed his lips as he made some calculations. "Based on the size of the fracture and how close together her spark-failure attacks have been, I would estimate over a vorn, but it would be anyone's guess as to just how many vorns."

Prowl's armor splayed outwardly and his doorwings spread suddenly, "Far too long, then."

"I wouldn't sentence anyone with such punishment, but this femme has proven to me she has incredible resilience. Consider yourself blessed by Primus that she has accepted you," Ratchet rumbled as he moved around Prowl to reset Splitwing's chest plates.

The Praxian took a step back to give him room, but stayed close.

"I find it uncanny that Jazz and I share such identical energies with her," Prowl muttered, drifting into deeper thoughts.

Ratchet shrugged, "I call that fate, Prowl. We both know that she needs a trine and it just so happens that you and Jazz fit that need for her." Prowl nodded absent-mindedly. Ratchet turned to face the younger grounder, "I'm going to give you some advice."

The black and gold tactician raised his head.

"Take good care of her; Jazz too. Everything they feel will transfer to you and affect you in ways you would never imagine. The bond you will create will be one of the strongest I've ever witnessed—I can already see the tether between you all growing."

Prowl frowned, but it wasn't an unhappy frown. Ratchet took a step forward to lay his steady hand on his shoulder, giving Prowl a small, rare smile. "They will make you happier than you have ever been, so be sure to return that."

Before Prowl could say something, Splitwing shot upright off her berth, wings high and visor white. Her sudden movement shocked both Prowl and Ratchet, but before either could get a word in edge-wise, she was out of the medical bay.

The two mechs shared a quick look of confusion before racing after her, shouting and hollering as they went.

"Splitwing, get back here! You shouldn't be exerting yourself like this!"

"Splitwing! What is happening?"

"Splitwing! _Femme_!"

They were hard-pressed to keep up with the seeker, but she was able to cut those tight corners much smoother than they could.

Prowl grabbed Jazz's arm as he stepped out of Prime's office and into the hall, likely checking out the commotion.

"Come! Splitwing has taken off!"

"Wha—"

"_Splitwing_!" Ratchet howled as he suddenly found a burst of speed.

Optimus followed shortly after Jazz, his heavy frame shaking the foundation of the base as they all moved to catch Splitwing. He didn't say anything, as neither Prowl nor Ratchet seemed keen enough to stop and explain things to him.

Besides, he could move fast when he needed to.

The four grounders made it around several more twists and turns, but not managing to gain any ground on Splitwing.

Jazz quickly overtook Ratchet, seeing Splitwing dart left around another corner and it hit him suddenly; "She's headin' for tha hangar!"

Just before the set of four mechs turned the same corner, they heard an almighty crash and the squeal of rubbing metal. Someone cursed.

Jazz dug his heels into the floor as he skidded around the bend, soon supporting Prowl's weight too as he caught up with him.

Three-quarters of way down the hall, Splitwing was tangled up with Mirage on the floor.

She made quick work of unwrapping herself from him, taking note of his presence on the base before shooting off again, seconds before Jazz was on top of them.

The saboteur leapt over top Mirage, cat-rolled, and took off after the femme. Prowl jumped over his legs, Ratchet dodged his arms and Optimus stopped to help him get off the floor.

"What is going on?" He asked with a frown.

Optimus shook his head, "I am afraid you know as much as I do."

The pair then moved to catch up with the rest.

Splitwing clipped her shoulder as she cut the next corner too close, but paid the little scratch absolutely no mind. Using her connection to her console, she activated the ground bridge and the intercom system.

_"__This is Communications Officer Splitwing; clear the ground bridge hangar immediately. Clear the hangar immediately!"_

_: Railhead, this is Splitwing. You must get to the ground bridge hangar immediately! I have it open to Snowblitz's coordinates! :_

And thus, another Cybertronian had joined in the great game of chase.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing rolled into the ground bridge hangar at breakneck speeds, scaring the pants off those that were still present. She raced as fast as she could at the great mass of swirling green, jumping into the air and folding into her ACTIVE jet form. Her engines screamed as she fired her thrusters to maximum—popping the eardrums of the humans.

Then, suddenly, the screaming was gone as she passed through the bridge. Lennox and Epps cringed at the ringing in their ears and opened their jaws to try and get them to pop.

"What the hell was that?" Epps said, looking towards the active bridge.

Lennox scowled, "No idea, but I'll be expecting an answer pronto."

It was then that both men felt the floor quaking beneath their boots.

"Wha—"

Railhead entered the hangar next, towing Ratchet with her. He was attached to her arms, trying to hold her back.

"_Railhead_! _What_ in the name of _Primus_ is going on?!" He roared as Jazz and Prowl came tumbling through the doors.

"Splitwing has found Snowblitz!" Railhead shrugged out of the medic's grip and tore through the ground bridge.

"Snowblitz? Wait!"

All of a sudden, it was like a rubber band had snapped as every bot made a beeline for the bridge.

Epps and Lennox watched Ratchet disappear into the bridge.

Then Jazz. Then Prowl.

Then the quiet newbie, Mirage—they thought his name was—came into the hangar. He glanced around as Optimus finally reached the same destination, shaking the walls so much that dust and dirt began to rain down on the soldiers' heads.

Optimus thundered passed, addressing Mirage as he raced for the bridge.

"Explain to the humans what has happened and have a path cleared for the med-bay upon our return!"

Then he was gone.

Lennox looked at Epps and Epps looked at Lennox. They both looked to Mirage, who looked to them.

There was a moment of quiet.

Mirage then shrugged, "It appears that they have found another of our kind."

The men glanced back at one another. Lennox frowned, "What was that commotion about, then?"

The ruby red saboteur raised his brow, "That is all I know."

"Okay, so, now what?" Epps gestured to the open bridge. "We just wait for them to come back?"

Mirage shrugged again, "We clear a path to the medical bay."

Lennox pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, "Alright. Epps, find Burns and tell what we know, then get his help in keeping all humans away from corridors B, C, two and four. Let's get this moving."

"On it!" Epps said and jogged away.

Lennox looked up to Mirage's face, "Can you relay the same message to the remaining Autobots?" He then mumbled, "If there's anyone _left_ on base."

The giant robot nodded his affirmation, turned on his heel, and walked out of the hangar—flipping the lever to the ground bridge on his way.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing ripped through the sky, tearing apart the canopies of the coniferous trees just below her. There was a moment of quiet, when only her turbines pierced the air, until a second set of thrusters joined hers.

Railhead had caught up.

_: How are you doing today? : _

_: Fine, but we are definitely having a serious talk when we get back! : _Railhead's response was immediate and it made Splitwing smile.

Her old friend was at peak functionality and she couldn't be happier about it. She didn't care that Railhead would probably chew her out for taking her to Ratchet, or being so easily deceived by a Decepticon trap.

_: Let's get Snowblitz home first. :_

The pair of femmes raced for the smoldering wreckage coming up ahead of them. Black smoke billowed into the air in thick plumes. As they approached, it became clear the pod was sitting on its thrusters, its nose pointed to the sky.

How it managed to land like it had was beyond either of them.

Splitwing was the first to touch down, landing with a great _phoof _as her thrusters blew the snow right out from under her.

Railhead cut her engines earlier, landing instead with a great _thud. _

"Snow! Where are ya?!" Railhead hollered as Splitwing trotted around to the belly of the pod. She was hoping to see inside that way, so she would have an idea of where the other femme was.

Both femmes heard a dull clank come from inside the pod.

Splitwing searched for the front window, and upon a closer inspection she saw it pointing straight into the sky, not on the belly like she had thought.

The roaring of engines racing towards them became all-too obvious. The others had crossed through the bridge as well.

"This way," Splitwing said to Railhead as she jumped onto the pod, making short work of scaling its outsides.

Soon enough she had reached the top.

"See her?" Railhead asked as she moved around to stand underneath of Splitwing's trail.

The seeker femme cleared the thick blanket of snow away from the viewing window before peering inside. She hissed suddenly and viciously at the sight of Snowblitz's form.

"I've got her," Splitwing reported while turning her attentions to the window and how to open it up. Any other way into the pod would take too long with the way it was sitting.

So, she shimmied her way across the front of the ovular pod until she was at the edge of the window. With the careful twitch of her right wrist, she pulled one of her twin swords from subspace—she would later thank Jazz for returning them to her.

Jazz and Prowl were the first of the grounders on scene, being the fastest sprinters of the group. The terrain was much too rough for their vehicular forms.

They watched as Splitwing thrust her sword into the seam of the window and wrench on the weapon. Prowl figured she was trying to pop it open, and was proven correct when only a moment later that's what happened.

The seeker jumped into the pod without a second thought.

Splitwing landed carefully with her feet on both sides of the pilot's seat, on top of Snowblitz.

The seeker grimaced at the trails of dried energon covering her mostly exposed protoform. Nearly all of her snow white armor was missing and her grey-blue protoform was exposed. Most of her non-vital energon lines had been severed or punctured and Splitwing could tell from the way Snowblitz was sitting that her wings were severely bent out of shape.

The normally white femme opened her optics slowly, blinking at the onslaught of blinding whiteness pouring in through the window.

When she finally gained some focus, she could see one of the Cybertronians she needed to see the most.

"Splitwing?" Snowblitz lifted her arm with the desire to touch the one standing above her, to know for certain she was real. _After all her troubles, could it really be her?_

Splitwing smiled softly and grabbed Snowblitz's hand, pressing it to her cheek, "It's me, Snow."

Snowblitz released a gust of cold air from her vents and winced as the miniscule shift in her position aggravated her many wounds, "I wasn't sure I'd see you again."

The dark grey seeker shook her head, "Neither was I, but Railhead and I are here now. She waits outside, right now."

"Rail's here too?" Snowblitz looked to the side, as if she could see through the walls of the pod. "_Primus_, she's gonna laugh at the mess I've gotten myself into."

Splitwing shook her head, "Possibly once you've been looked after, but we are only concerned at the moment."

The wounded femme breathed a laugh. "I've pulled through worse."

"Either way, I need to get you out of here to get a good look at your injuries. Are you able to stand?"

"Barely. I think I broke something when I was putting in the coordinates," Snowblitz muttered.

Splitwing raised a brow, "Why would that have happened?"

Snowblitz had the smarts to look embarrassed. "Well, you see—I was putting in the numbers—and I may have put them in a few wrong spots before I got the right one."

The seeker bowed her head, "You never were the greatest pilot."

"Frag, you're figuring that out now?"

Splitwing tried to hold back a smile, but it crept onto her face despite her efforts. "Nonetheless, it is time to come home, Snow."

"I couldn't be happier about it."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing was as gentle as she could be when she pulled Snowblitz's bulk across her shoulders. The flier still hissed and moaned in pain, but never said a word.

Once she was sure Snowblitz was secure, Splitwing manoeuvered herself around so she could grasp the edges of the up-righted pod's window frame with her hands. With a mighty heave Splitwing pulled both her own and Snowblitz's weight from the pod, mindful of how much she was jostling the flier. With the added help of her thrusters, she had them both out safely and descended to the ground.

It appeared to Splitwing that Jazz and Prowl were present, but she knew the others wouldn't be far behind.

"Hey Snow, how ya doing?" Railhead said, grabbing Snowblitz's hand as Splitwing carefully laid her out on the snow so she could begin triage on her damages.

"You know, I think I could go a few rounds in the Pit right about now," Snowblitz snipped sarcastically, but squeezed Railhead's hand for the comfort of knowing she was _there_.

Splitwing pulled her medical kit from subspace and began to patch the worst of Snowblitz's energon lines. She handed some to Railhead to use quickly before making swift work of the largest leak.

As Jazz and Prowl came up behind her, the tension in her struts seemed to drain, belying her great concern for Snowblitz's life. Her face may have been straight, but her spark was pulsing madly and the thoughts inside her processor whirled in a never-ending spiral of _what-ifs. _

It was like they were a wall behind her, giving an unsaid support she greatly needed.

"She needs energon," Splitwing stated after noting that her wounds were no longer leaking—a sign that even her reserves were dried up.

"Here," said Jazz as he took a seat beside Splitwing with his arm lifted, offering to her the easiest access to his own energon reserves in his side, beneath his upper arm.

She hesitated, "Are you sure, Jazz?"

"'Course! Any friend of yer's is a friend 'o mine," he waved off her question. "'Sides, Ratchet won't get here fer a bit and she needs it now."

Splitwing smiled at her bonded-to-be before removing several of his smaller armor plates and using a special tool she was able to tap into his primary reserve. Thus she had created a transfusion with Snowblitz.

Jazz shuffled around so he was next to the wounded femme's head, there he could talk to her and be out of Splitwing's way. "So yer Snowblitz?"

"One and only, thanks for the energon,"

Jazz gave her his signature grin, "Yer welcome, jus' don' be goin' through it too fast."

The corner of Snowblitz's lips lifted in a crooked smile, "I like you."

"Does that mean I don' have ta work hard fer any approval in the future?" Jazz smirked while tilting his head ever-so-little.

Snowblitz regarded him through dim optics, "We'll see, smooth-talker."

"Oh, got it in one, didn' ya?" Jazz laughed lightly.

"I'm a good judge of character," Snowblitz smiled.

"Are ya now?"

"Sure, why not? You know, I happen to know from fact that I'm right."

"And why's that?"

"Because a femme's always right."

"Then all I need is some extra chest platin' and I'd be a femme too, 'cause I'm always right."

"I cannot wait for the day you eat those words."

Meanwhile, Splitwing had moved on to placing temporary welds over Snowblitz's protoform. There were deep gouges that worried her, but she knew Ratchet would arrive soon enough and take over.

Prowl noticed that from his position behind Splitwing that energon had begun to ooze from some of Snowblitz's more major injuries.

"Splitwing, look," he said and pointed to a particularly nasty gash in Snowblitz's shoulder.

The seeker immediately saw the energon coming from the open wound and was quick to put together the energon line and weld it closed.

"That's good Jazz, she's got enough to properly cycle her systems." Splitwing interrupted the pair from whatever conversation they were having. She first detached the line from Jazz, then let it finish draining into Snowblitz before placing the tool back in her kit.

Both Ratchet and Optimus came thundering from the trees, stomping the forest beneath their feet in their rush to get to the others.

Splitwing stepped away from Snowblitz just in time for Ratchet to step in, bumping into Prowl's chest as she moved.

He held her steady, but when she made no move to leave his touch, he began to rub her shoulder gently. Her worry for Snowblitz was palpable, but Prowl knew that as long as she was conscious, she would be alright. It was simply a matter of getting her into top shape again.

Jazz hopped up and moved to stand next to Railhead, patting her on the arm. "How ya doin'?"

The copper femme stared at Snowblitz's vulnerable form in the snow. It scared her to think about how easily Lockdown could have just killed her, but then she remembered how much of a scrapper Snowblitz was. She could fight her way out of anything, even Ultra Magnus. Nothing could keep Snowblitz from her family. Now she was here again, and nothing would take her away, _not if Railhead could help it._

"I—uh… I think I'm gonna be okay. We're all gonna be okay." She looked up and smiled at Jazz, lightly punching his shoulder. "Take care a' Spits, will ya?"

The saboteur gave Railhead the sincerest smile, "It's a promise."

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Hello readers! I am quite pleased with this chapter and I hope you are to! _

_Please let me know if you spot any errors so that I may correct them. _

_mewnekoice12: I personally don't know what 'tactile' bonding would look like, but I don't want to give away too much! So, I'm going to say just keep reading. :)__It's coming up soon!_


	20. Chapter XIX

_CHAPTER XIX: WHAT ONCE WAS CARRIED_

Splitwing was on her way to the lounge to pick up some energon for herself. It had been nearly a day and a half since she had picked up the signal of Snowblitz and the femme was still in a medical induced stasis for repairs. Ratchet had mentioned to her that morning he would be awakening the white flier possibly later that afternoon, but Splitwing chose not to be too hopeful.

With the loss of her armor and the extent to which her energon lines had been punctured, Splitwing figured Snowblitz would be out for at least another day. However, Ratchet was one of the finest medics that Splitwing had ever met, so the possibility that Snowblitz could be at full functionality in such a short time wasn't entirely illogical.

_: Splitwing, are you available for a short discussion? :_

Splitwing blinked slowly as the thoughts began to cycle through her mind. _: Of course, Ratchet, when would you like to see me? : _

_ Was Snowblitz in danger off spark-failure? Were her welds not setting? Was there a setback in Railhead's recovery?_

_ : Immediately. :_

_ : Certainly. I will be there right away. : _Splitwing disconnected the link between her and the Chief Medic and turned from the lounge towards the medical bay.

It suddenly occurred to her how far the lounge was from the med-bay. She had numerous corridors and corners to cover, yet the base itself was rather puny in comparison to those many she had been in before.

Perhaps it was because the original construction was a design from that of the humans. Or, maybe, the amount of Autobots on base was growing to be a number that exceed the carrying capacity of the location.

Either way, the small square footage had turned into a spiraling labyrinth that Splitwing found rather vulnerable to attack should the Decepticons ever learn of their position.

Splitwing made a mental note to herself to bring up the point with both Optimus and the human leaders of the base.

Then she reminded herself that she needed to find more information about the sudden disappearance of Agent William Fowler. There was something so off about Galloway that she refused to accept his sudden assignment to the Autobots.

She also remembered she had to refill her transkit with more temporary patches—if Ratchet had any to spare.

She made a left turn into an empty hallway, her train of thoughts running rampant in her processor. It was quite organized chaos that one might never understand if they were to see inside her head.

Suddenly Splitwing's proximity sensors blared in her mind, her wings stiffened and her stance turned into one of cautious defense.

_Life Signal Detected—Short Range: Designation Unknown_

Her visor dimmed as she narrowed her optics, her digits twitching subtly while she tried to determine just who was roaming the hallways with her.

A light bulb suddenly lit up in her mind.

Splitwing straightened her stance and said firmly, "I know you are there."

A beat of silence ensued before there was ripple in the light to her right, revealing the ruby red mech she knew to be there.

"You always did have sharper sensors than the others," said Mirage as he stepped out of the shadows.

She hummed quietly in her throat, "Something I hadn't thought you'd noticed." She refused to look directly at him, instead choosing to stare down the way ahead of her.

"I was aware of a great many things, but Ultra Magnus' betrayal was not one of them," Mirage moved around her slightly to inspect his old student.

Splitwing's wings lowered and pulled back so they were touching. Mirage knew her thoughts had just turned hostile.

"Something I had expected of you, otherwise how else would he have had an unauthorized vessel _auto-piloted_ from the hangars that were _locked_ _down_?" She hissed sarcastically.

Mirage's optics narrowed as he came to a stop directly in front of her—looking the femme unswervingly in the visor. "You believe I am a part of his traitorous actions?"

"I believe in numerous theories, but the one in which you aided him meant nothing to me. You had so little faith in my abilities and my willingness to learn, I could not—_cannot_—think you would have sent me off for such _specialized_ _training_." Splitwing bared her denta slightly, her lip plates curled into the beginnings of a snarl.

The crimson spy frowned deeply, "I never doubted you, Splitwing—"

"—No?" Splitwing fisted her hands, using all of her will to keep her swords in subspace. "Then I suppose it _wasn't_ your _less than stellar_ reports of my actions that drew Ultra Magnus to me. It _must_ have been by folly he chose my quarters that night!"

"Splitwin—"

"—Do you have any idea how your words condemned me?" Splitwing barked, losing her temper for the first time in a _very long time_. "How they _enslaved_ me?" She lashed out with her sharp claws in wild gestures. "How they have _killed_ me?!"

"I've seen some of your evidence that proves Ultra Magnus' deceit—"

"—Some? You will never understand my misery until you have seen every last one of my memories; an unjust mercy you are given because I cannot show them all to you!" Splitwing howled and seethed, her visor turning violet in her rage. An unnerving growl sounded from her chest, which prompted Mirage to contact Optimus.

_: Prime, I seem to have ended up in a rather delicate situation. :_

_ : In what way, Mirage? :_

_ : Splitwing found me. :_

Optimus seemed to hesitate. _: What was her reaction? :_

The femme turned and thrust her fist into the wall so hard it shook the pillars behind it. "You should be overjoyed I have as much self-control as I do."

_: It is not good. She has erupted… quite spectacularly in a demonstration of seeker temper. : _

_ : I will be at your coordinates shortly, I am going to suggest you try and remove yourself from the situation. :_

Splitwing slashed at the wall with her claws, seeing all the faces of those that had wronged her. She knew she had to reel in her temper before her glitch activated, but she was just so incredibly _mad_.

Mirage suddenly felt like a wrecker had pummeled him into the floor. _: I fear if I attempt to leave she will cut me in half. : _He had always felt guilty for allowing his underlings to disappear like so many had, but as he watched Splitwing tear herself apart his guilt reached a new level.

_He _was the one catalyst that had driven this femme straight into the hands of a greedy, self-centered, _brilliant_ criminal.

Optimus frowned. He had been correct in his thinking that Splitwing was not to be exposed to Mirage until further notice, but it appeared as though that plan had failed immensely. Now he had a critically wounded, raging, femme seeker on the loose.

_: I will be there momentarily. Do not antagonize her, Mirage. :_

_ : Yes, sir. :_

Optimus needed only to find a couple people before moving to rescue Mirage.

_: Jazz, Prowl, Railhead, rendezvous at these coordinates immediately. :_

_ : What's up, boss bot? : _Jazz replied instantly.

_: We have a situation. : _

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing looked to Mirage. Here, standing before her, was a mech that caused so many feelings to erupt within her. She was undeniably pissed off that _his_ _words_ had put her onto Ultra Magnus' radar; she had read his reports when she had infiltrated the academy—a vorn after she had been taken.

She knew exactly how it had happened.

Mirage reported to his group of superiors; of whom Ultra Magnus just so happened to be a part of. Ultra Magnus would have been privy to the knowledge of Splitwing's glitch and aggressive behaviors during sparring. _He would have been privy to every single cadets' records._ He had had the prime pick of them.

Could she truly blame Mirage? She knew the answer was no, _she knew it. _Did she believe it? _At times. _He had been doing what was expected of him, but it had also condemned Splitwing to vorns upon vorns of abuse and suffering.

She snarled at him then, thinking of little Sandflare's face just before she had sealed him in that pod. The small sparkling would never have come to be if Mirage hadn't of painted _her_ in such a desirable light—to Ultra Magnus, of course.

The small sparkling wouldn't be drifting aimlessly in space. Splitwing wouldn't have had to send him off in such a way.

She wouldn't have been further exposed to Crossway.

_Crossway_—her name had been—the femme carrier to Sandflare, well, _originally_.

_ORDER VYNYAN_

_Splitwing had just finished her daily ration of energon. It was a meagre bit, but it had to suffice until tomorrow—or until she was given a mission. Energon rations were always increased to those sent off on assignment. _

_ She had recently returned from Xeloks, and despite the separation from her closest friends, she was itching to go back out _there_. Even though it was always good to rest for a while; she wanted the extra gallon of fuel. _

_ Besides, Railhead and Snowblitz had just been sent off on another task, so Splitwing had no one on which to spend what little spare time she had. _

_ "Splitwing?" _

_ The dark grey femme turned from her path—she had been headed towards her small, shared quarters—to face another seeker femme._

_ She was a bright, orange-red colour, but her base plating was the shade of dark pitch. She had a slender frame, much more willowy than any other femme Splitwing had known. _

_ It disturbed Splitwing slightly how many thoughts of just how easily it would be to break her in two ran through her mind. _

_ "Crossway."_

_ But by _Primus, _she hated her. Crossway's face was longer than the distance between both shores of the Rusted Sea. _

_ Her looks weren't really the part that bothered her the most, if at all. No, it was the fact that she had an attitude of self-piety and arrogance that really cranked Splitwing's gut. Crossway could never admit when she was in the wrong or had made a mistake. _

_ She always managed to find a scapegoat for her errors. _

_ She was also the greatest suck-up Splitwing had ever met. Even her old instructor at the academy had been more proud of Crossway than he had been of Splitwing—and that thought never failed to churn her tanks. _

_ "Swing, I need a favour," Crossway grinned as she approached the taller femme. _

_ Splitwing was not slow to make a correction, "I have said it before and I will say it again: my designation is Splitwing, not Swing. If you refuse to learn it, I will engrave it on your forehead." _

_ A flash of rage flickered across the flame-coloured femme's face before she could dismiss the expression. A tight smile took its place, "Look, I really need to talk to you."_

_ "Then speak. I am not inclined to give a favour to one that has never had any interest in me other than discriminatory," Splitwing said stoically as she turned on her heel and continued on her way. _

_ Crossway was quick to catch up to the other seeker. She stumbled over her own pedes as they turned a corner, but she remained silent until Splitwing made it to her room and had entered. _

_ The taller femme then turned to look at Crossway over her shoulder. The slim seeker stood awkwardly in the entrance, rubbing her abdomen armor nervously. _

_ "If you have something to say, say it. You're wasting my time." Splitwing grunted, leaving the door open for Crossway. _

_ The flaming femme stepped hesitantly into the small room, eying Splitwing carefully. Crossway was well-aware of her rather horrible treatment of Splitwing—but she hadn't rightly cared._

_ She moved and took a seat across from Splitwing on the other berth in the cramped quarters. _

_ She vented harshly in a sigh, "You are literally the only one I could come to about this."_

_ "I doubt that," Splitwing snorted. _

_ Crossway glared sharply at her. "You think I'm here by choice? No. I know we hate each other, but I really need to ask you something."_

_ Splitwing leaned back and crossed her arms. "Then _ask_." _

_ "We both know that you're his favourite. You get all the missions, especially the long-term ones—which means you get the most energon in the field," Crossway began. She was vigilant of every movement Splitwing made, watchful for some kind of sudden attack—even though Splitwing had never done such a thing. _

_ "Generally, yes."_

_ Crossway sighed, "I don't get a lot of assignments, and the ones I do get are small and insignificant. My energon rations never change."_

_ "Are you asking me to give you my energon?"_

_ She shook her head, glared, and spat, "Let me finish."_

_ Splitwing bared her denta at the fiery coloured seeker, "Then hurry up and finish."_

_ Crossway sneered back, "I'm trying. _Anyway_, I need your help. I'm… uh…"_

_ Splitwing leaned forward then, optics narrowed beneath her visor, "You're what?"_

_ "I'm carrying. It was one night of mistaken merging and interfa—"_

_ "—What?! You dared to merge even though you were fully aware that you were full of fresh transfluid?" Splitwing growled. Only Crossway would be so selfish as to gain pleasure for herself even though she already had more than Splitwing: a mech and his transfuids. _

_ Splitwing had been well educated in the matters of their kind's reproduction and reproductive parts. _

_ A femme had a gestational chamber behind the spark that would house a mech's transfluids—which could only get into the chamber via manual injection or interfacing. _

_ A mech's transfluids would then be used for one of two purposes; either it would be absorbed during a spark-merge between Cybertronians to create a new spark, or it would be processed by the femme's body. If a femme absorbed it into her own body, it would act as a kind of mineral enrichment, giving her useful vitamins not found in regular grade energon. _

_ It can give the femme enhanced stamina, endurance, and strength—but in a purely natural way. _

_ Only a mech could create transfluid—but it was entirely useless to him once his body had processed it. His waste then would become her treasure and his pleasure. _

_ "Yes! I know! We were both drinking high grade and one thing led to another! Look, I don't have the rations to support this sparkling—but _youdo_. I want you to carry it." Crossway spat. "There are no other seekers strong enough here that could do it anyway."_

_ Splitwing was gobsmacked. "You want me to carry _your_ mistake, _your_ sparkling, using my energon, then birth it, like I was its carrier?"_

_ Crossway rubbed her face, "Yes. Is that so hard to understand?"_

_ "Yes, yes it is. Crossway, this is a lot to ask of someone that has no positive relation to you. Too much," Splitwing stood and flexed her wings. _

_ Crossway jumped up instantly and grabbed Splitwing's forearms, "Look, I know it's a lot, but if you don't carry it, it won't make it past the first decacycle. If you won't do it for me, do it for the sparkling. Give it a chance."_

_ Splitwing looked slowly down at Crossway's hands on her armor. Crossway let go as if burnt, but did not cease her pleading gaze. _

_ "To clarify: do you believe that even with your mech's transfluids, you will be able to support this sparkling after it's born?"_

_ Crossway bit her lip plates tightly, "I don't know, I'm only going one step at a time."_

_ It was silent in the room. Splitwing continued to look at the spot that Crossway had touched her at, thinking deeply about it. _

Help the femme that made her already life of slag miserable, or let an innocent sparkling extinguish. _Splitwing vented quietly. _

_ "I will carry the sparkling, but so help you Primus, if you ask anything like this again—I will kill you for your stupidity." _

_ Crossway glared at her, but felt a great sense of relief flood her systems, "Thank you, Splitwing. I owe you one."_

_ "You owe me one I don't rightly think you could ever repay."_

_ORDER VYNYAN_

Splitwing remembered that conversation like it had happened yesterday. Crossway had followed her to her quarters and begged her to carry her newly created sparkling.

She should have said no. _Primus, she should have said no._

Splitwing had been given an assignment two days later, and had gone with Crossway to another ex-cadet who had been training as a medic. He transferred the new spark into Splitwing and she had carried him until he was nearly ready to separate from her.

Then Crossway had returned from a mission gone wrong. She had been captured by Decepticons and questioned as an Autobot. Splitwing had never been allowed to know the details.

They had done something horrible to her though. When she returned, she snuck out of the med-bay, waited for Splitwing to return to her quarters—and she forcefully removed little Sandflare from Splitwing's gestational chamber.

The abrupt assault on Splitwing's chamber and the little sparkling—which was still attached to her own spark—caused a hairline crack to form.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Prowl and Jazz rounded the corner to the coordinates Optimus had provided only to see Mirage standing ramrod straight—not something really surprising, but it was the fact that _Splitwing_ had the ruby mech so anxious that was certainly unexpected.

She was pacing, crouching, standing and rubbing her chest plates while whispering and hissing words that didn't form a legible sentence. Her hands trembled and her wings shivered severely.

"Prowl? What's goin' on?" Jazz said, a bewildered look on his face.

The black and gold Autobot frowned, "It would appear as though the stress of finding Snowblitz and seeing Mirage has finally caused her to snap."

"What do we do?" Jazz murmured, watching as Optimus appeared at the other end of corridor.

Splitwing collapsed suddenly, clutching her chest and keening loudly.

Mirage darted backwards and Jazz lunged forwards, landing next to Splitwing's head. He grabbed her wrists and cradled her head in his arms, whispering soft words of comfort.

Prowl was suddenly there, settling behind Splitwing's back. He latched onto her wings, stroking the sensitive panels gently and slowly.

"Hush, dearest Splitwing," he whispered.

A vicious quiver shook her entire body, all her vents stuttering and hiccupping with the seizure.

"Optimus, we need Ratchet," Jazz called to the large Cybertronian that had moved closer.

He didn't respond, but instead called the chief medic immediately, explaining to him quickly what was happening—also apologizing for Railhead's quick exit from the med-bay.

The said femme came reeling around the corner then, gasping at the sight of her commander on the ground in such a way.

"Splitwing?" She called tentatively as she edged closer, around the two mechs currently consoling her.

The rich, grey femme didn't respond.

"C'mon Spits, pull out of it!" Jazz grabbed her chin and forced her wild gaze to meet his visor.

Railhead kneel next to Splitwing's legs, watching worriedly while she shook like a leaf.

"Railhead, have you ever witnessed something of this manner with Splitwing before?" Optimus asked, calculating Ratchet's projected time of arrival.

The copper femme shook her head vigorously, "Never. I've only ever seen her glitch out, but that is terrifying on a _whole_ different level."

Optimus nodded solemnly, "Do you recall any traumatic events that could cause her to lapse like this?"

Again, Railhead shook her head. "I don't know. We all had our fair share of slag handed out by Ultra Magnus, but nothing that would cause _Splitwing_ of all bots to react like _this_."

"What do you mean by that?" Prowl asked, optics snapping to the thick femme.

"I mean that Splitwing never really _snapped_ like this. She usually kept her composure together, but there was one time she was attacked in our quarters and she was never quite the same after it. She'd lose herself in her thoughts a lot more often, and sometimes I'd catch her clawing at her chest—kinda like that," Railhead gestured to Splitwing as she began pulling at her armor again, having momentarily escaped Jazz's grip.

Optimus frowned deeply as Ratchet came barrelling down the hall. He dropped and shoved himself between Railhead and Jazz.

"_Move_," he ordered.

And move they did.

**ORDER VYNYAN**

Splitwing was welcomed back into consciousness with the grinning face of Snowblitz.

"Howdy."

Splitwing shoved Snowblitz aside and pulled herself into a sitting position. As she moved, she felt an absurd tautness in all of her muscular cables. She lifted her arms and found the motion to be jerky and stiff—like she had been in a medically induced stasis since she was _a sparkling_.

"What happened?" She asked.

"We could ask you the same thing," Prowl said as he and Ratchet entered the med-bay.

Splitwing puckered her brow as she tried to recall the missing time from her memory banks.

"You had one helluva time screaming at Mirage, then you collapsed and had a spark-related seizure," explained Ratchet as he sent Splitwing a patronizing glare.

She knew _exactly_ what his thoughts were on the latter of his words.

She glared back.

Then she remembered.

Splitwing had had a flashback to the times when she had been carrying Sandflare, and subsequently, his crude _birth _from her hold.

She sighed. She would have to apologize to Mirage for threatening him, but she would not apologize for her earlier words—before she had become erratic.

He had needed to hear what she had to say.

"Care to share with us your thoughts?" Ratchet prompted.

Splitwing vented sharply, "Not now, Ratchet. I thank you for taking care of me, once again, but if you'll excuse me, I need to go out for a while."

The medic narrowed his optics until they were mere slits, scrutinizing her every word.

She turned the patronizing glare on him.

"Fine, but you had better report back here at the end of the day for a check-over. I will not have you over stressing your body without proper maintenance," Ratchet growled. "However, we need to have a talk, first."

Prowl watched carefully, trying to discern the meaning behind the events of the day, but there was one big piece missing.

_What had happened to Splitwing? _

**ORDER VYNYAN**

_Another chapter for everyone to enjoy! I just wish to mention that the idea that Splitwing carried Sandflare isn't new, that was a prospect I have been meaning to incorporate for some time now—I just wanted to wait for the right moment. _

_And here it is! _

_Also—do not use my ideas, please. I have never seen in another fanfiction a mech's transfluid used in such a way. If you like the idea and wish to use it in your own story, ask me first. :)_

_Let me know your thoughts on it all! Please notify me if you spot any mistakes! _

turtlelly: _I believe that Ratchet knows so much of Prowl's lineage because he is one of the oldest bots around, so I deem it logical enough that he would have possibly known Prowl's carrier and sire. Also, as the CMO, he would have access to all the records for a bot's medical history—including such things as hereditary conditions/traits. Hence, he would have an idea of what Prowl's lineage was like. :)_

Mewnekoice12: _Nah, it'll be more of physical interaction. You'll have seen some of the details in this chapter, and you'll get the rest soon!_

_As for requests, well, would you want to request a one-shot? Or do you have input for the plot of the story? Either way, I'd love to hear what you've got and I will see what I can do! :)_

_It would also be much easier to reply to you if you've got an account? The only way I can currently reply if through an update—which might not always come so quickly!_

Luna Uchiha666: _I am thrilled you enjoyed it! I love reading those unordinary scenes when one of characters does something unexpected—especially for their character (no pun intended)! :D_


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